Seriously, if you're against the extra heresy that is Macha being de-virginized, leave now. Else, if you're the kind of sick fuck who likes that sort of thing, stick around to read about an Acolyte's pelvis being destroyed.

Written by Edinbro, who started trying to rewrite some of it and gave up. Currently dead.

Does she really need to call attention to the fact that she, after so many centuries lost on the loneliest of Paths, had found companionship? Have I done something to so anger my own sister that she feels she must torture me so by reminding me of my failures?

It is not for a lack of trying, to be sure. I truly thought that Gabriel and I had a chance. He had seemed so much more than the others... and yet even he betrayed my trust in the end even after I did so much to assist him and his Chapter. Ungrateful mon'keigh bastard. And Taldeer, who had NEVER expressed any interest in romance, managed to accidentally seduce a socially and romantically stunted MON'KEIGH ASSASSIN into betraying his people rather than do his job and murder her. While I was wasting my time trying to bring Gabriel around, SHE was getting hot filthy mon'keigh sex the sort of which some of our youngest sisters and daughters fantasize about.

Admittedly I'd have been upset had he killed her. She IS after all is said and done my sister, and that will never change. But it just isn't fair that she has had everything I have wanted, everything I tried so hard to take for myself, practically GIVEN to her. Sure she was wounded and left blind, but at least she has someone to guide her back out of the dark. And now she has the nerve to show him off at every opportunity, even now. Not even a month since I nearly DIED and she's flirting with him right in front of me, taunting me that the Astartes I had bragged about turned out to be just as arrogant and sexless as the others. Insensitive bitch.

Fuck Taldeer, fuck the eldar, fuck Gabriel, fuck the Imperium, fuck humanity, fuck the Ruinous Powers... even the ORKS get to reproduce, so fuck them too, I guess. I need to get away for a while... anywhere, just away from my damned sister and her stupid little braindead sugar-mon'keigh.

The momentary disorientation of the Webway portal fades quickly, and I find myself fleeing through the abyss. Are those tears I feel on my face, or a trick of the howling void? I won't allow myself the luxury of crying. I simply refuse to show anyone that it bothers me so deeply, and I wipe my eyes with my sleeve as I step back out into realspace...

… only to find myself facing a mon'keigh.

Tall, dark eyes and brown hair that managed to be unruly despite its shortness, and broad-shouldered. He isn't as domineering as Gabriel. I could walk past him in a crowded alleyway, where the Astartes would likely grind my face between his shoulders and the wall. But still, he seems like he could eat a lesser mon'keigh alive if he set his mind to it.

Oscillating between making an advance on him and breaking him with my mind, I can't seem to find any words to address him. But the way he's looking at me, the sudden realization that I have NO idea where the hell I am: somehow, it's exciting.

“Hi there,” he says to me with a friendly smile. “Welcome to Hai Fong."

The surprise kiss of his knuckles against my cheek knocks me off my feet, and clouds my vision as my mind slides into darkness. I wasn't prepared for this... my mind was in disarray. That's the only reason he managed to lay a finger on me. I was too upset.

Damn.

I'm about to be taken prisoner. Me, a Farseer. On a strange world, by a fine specimen of a mon'keigh.

Acolyte Virtanen felt conflicted: not so much about his orders, but rather his current interpretation of them. Inquisitor Cheng was very clear that while his Acolytes were serving their probationary time as individual operatives, they were to locate and secure any xenotech or even actual xenos that could become an asset to the Ordo Xenos Hybris. More than anything, Virtanen longed to find something useful enough to distinguish himself to his mentor.

Throne, this was more than he bargained for.

The young Acolyte waved in the general direction of the hotel concierge as he passed, not even bothering to look up. This sort of luxury usually wasn't his style, but he had to admit he could see why rich traders and government officials usually went in for it: such ostentatious display of wealth. An elevator was waiting to whisk him up a hundred floors into the sky, where he walked down the hall to a gilded lift that carried him another fifty floors, practically to the top of the Spire.

Where the opulence of the lobby below had merely been dismaying, the penthouse suite itself was positively obscene. The double-layered, reinforced glass reduced the terrific windshear that whipped up in the evenings to a whisper, all while affording a hundred-and-eighty degree view of the hive spire. From up here the buildings caught the fading light like giant hunks of crystal. It was so stunning that Virtanen momentarily forgot the millions living in destitute poverty so many thousands of feet below him.

He'd also forgotten what was waiting for him in the sitting room.

“Farseer,” he moaned, “what in the Emperor's holy name is THAT supposed to be? And how the hell did you even GET it?”

Somehow, the xeno witch he'd only recently captured had managed to obtain a silky set of lingirie, which she was now wearing for reasons that utterly escaped the Acolyte. “Are you not excited?” she asked in a tone more appropriate to an inquiry about the weather than a sultry come-on. “I selected them because they seemed most likely to appeal to a mon'keigh's baser instincts. Are they not effective?” Virtanen allowed himself to run his eyes over the Farseer. The way the little white silk negligee and emerald-green lowleg underwear exposed the smooth, toned expanse of her stomach, the way the swell of her chest was only just obscured behind a pale veil, the way her shockingly red hair spilled carelessly across her bare shoulders... Macha had to smile as the man's eyes lingered exactly three and a half seconds before he seemed to catch himself.

“That's not the point,” he eventually muttered, his discomfort apparent. “You're not SUPPOSED to look attractive.” Then glancing away and finding a small box sitting on the table, he grimaced. “And you're DEFINITELY not supposed to spend official Inquisitorial funds to do it.”

Macha sighed and allowed her hips to slide gently to one side, turning with a fluid grace unmatched by any human to show off the profile of her backside. “I had hoped this would make our time spent in further pointless interrogations less unpleasant.”

“Well, that was going to happen anyway,” Virtanen mused. “I think I've got any intelligence value out of you already.”

“Oh?”

Virtanen showed her a bottle of amasec he had picked up while he was out. “You've got no ship, no army, and no weapons. All you've got is a story that checks out with the reports I've read from the Blood Ravens. So, I'd like to ask you a few personal questions to try and get a feel for your personality. Then I can put any other intelligence in a proper context.”

“Businesslike, as usual.” Macha settled gracefully into a soft chair, and crossed one long, slender leg over the other. “What do you wish to know, mon'keigh?”

The man handed her a glass, and switched on a small audio recording device. “How long have you been a Farseer?” The question gave Macha pause: she had to contemplate her answer for a moment, as if she were almost unsure herself.

“I had hardly come of age when I started on the Path of the Seer. It has been many centuries.” She sniffed at the amber liquer in her tumbler, then took a first tentative sip. Then she took a larger one. Virtanen watched the fine amasec slide down her throat, and found his gaze lingering again.

“And how are Farseers treated in eldar society?” Again, Macha gave her interrogator a vaguely puzzled look.

“Why is that important?”

“We don't do interviews very often.”

Macha sighed again. “I see. Very well. Farseers are looked to as leaders, of course you knew that much.” She looked up to Virtanen, and saw him nod silently. “However, there is a tendency to treat us as abnormal.”

Virtanen's eyebrow went up, and she could see his interest had been piqued. “How so?”

“It is almost as if they forget sometimes that we eat, drink, and sleep just the same as they do. That we have... needs.” The Farseer's face betrayed a hint of emotion, recognizable despite her alien mind. That last sentence had made her uncomfortable, and she was afraid the Acolyte picked up on it.

“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously. “Regular needs, or extraordinary?”

“Do you find me attractive?” she countered, seemingly from nowhere. She leaned forward towards Virtanen, and the shift in her center of balance drew his eyes like a magnet towards her swaying chest.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” Macha insisted in a mounting tone of aggravation. “Do you have any idea how long it has been since I last spent the night with a man?”

“Ummm... long lived species... busy work schedule... a year or two?” Virtanen asked, clearly guessing.

“It was a trick question, NEVER!” The Farseer was on her feet now, hands resting on the armrests of Virtanen's chair. “I have been a virgin for far longer than you have lived! BY ORDERS OF MAGNITUDE!”

“... I'm sorry?” the Acolyte offered.

“Oh SURE,” she snapped, “the noble mon'keigh taking pity on the poor undersexed eldar. What a joke!” Her face was now far too close to the Acolyte's for his comfort, but if she noticed she made no sign of it. “Your kind are half the problem! No eldar will touch me, because I am a Farseer and they have no idea that Farseers have sexual urges, and doubt me when I tell them! But you humans? Isha's TEARS you can be even worse!”

“Yeah, how exactly are we worse, Miss High-and-Mighty Farseer?” Virtanen spat, finally deciding to take a stand and planting his forehead obstinately against hers. “Oh, preach me a fucking sermon!”

“You are WORSE,” Macha shouted, gesturing wildly with her hands without backing out of the human's face for even an instant, “because of your GODS-DAMNED IGNORANCE! You seem to think that if any eldar even so much as IMPLIES they are enjoying themselves a daemonette will spontaneously explode from their anus! And do not START about your Astartes!”

“WHAT'S WRONG WITH THEM!?” the Acolyte shouted back. “They don't even have balls, do they?”

“I could tell you if that GODS-DAMNED GABRIEL would have occasionally SHUT HIS FUCKING MOUTH AND LISTENED TO ME!” Macha's long hair whirled as she jumped atop the glass table standing in the middle of the room, an impossibly graceful leap that covered far more distance than a regular human could hope to cross, and her voice immediately dropped into a gravelly impersonation of the Blood Ravens leader.

“LOOK AT ME, I AM A SPESS MUHRREEN!” She grunted loudly, swinging an imaginary sword with wild and deliberately clumsy abandon. Every movement made her hair fly about her body and her breasts jiggle from the exertion. “I am a mindless retard! I do not care if the nice eldar lady who can see the future told me that tampering with this daemonic artifact will doom us all, I think I will hit it with a huge hammer! BECAUSE THAT SEEMS LIKE A GREAT IDEA THAT WILL NOT COME BACK TO BITE US IN THE ASS AT ALL! NOPE! NOT ONE GODS-DAMNED BIT!”

“Look, it's not OUR fault. You pointy-eared bastards can't flush a toilet without relying on cryptic metaphors and double-meanings!” Virtanen stood to face the xeno witch, and Macha jumped down from the table, landing lightly on her bare feet mere inches from him. The tension in the room was palpable as they stared each other down.

“If ignorance could be used for armor, you humans would be invincible,” she growled.

For a moment both continued to stare each other down, each fuming in their anger. Then, in an impossible movement, Macha propelled herself at the Acolyte, using her entire body to tackle him to the floor. And before he could react, while she pinned his shoulders to the ground with her hands and straddled him between her bare thighs, she did the unthinkable.

She lowered her head, and their lips met in the most passionate kiss either had ever shared. Her crimson hair fell around their faces as the shock gradually faded from Virtanen's eyes, and they both lingered for what seemed like hours, but in truth could have as easily been days or weeks. Even as they parted, her taste was still on his lips. The man looked at the Farseer, confusion clearly etched into his face.

“... you're nuts.” he concluded.

“Shut up.”

They shared a second kiss, one which was somehow more passionate even than the last, and which lasted longer. Macha felt the human's rough hands caressing the sensitive skin along her sides, and responded by biting gently at Virtanen's lower lip as they separated once more. Her thighs squeezed his sides, silently urging him to continue. But he would have none of it.

Instead he rolled her off him, and rolled atop her, one hand going for his fly. Seeing this, Macha's legs lashed out, squeezing him between her thighs once more like a vice. She then wrapped her ankles around behind him and drove herself as close as she could, pinning his wrist in place against her crotch and pulling her body up as her arms went around his neck.

“Not yet, fucker,” she growled into Virtanen's ear as he tried in vain to free his hand.

“The hell are you doing, crazy xeno bitch? And who the hell taught you the word “fucker” anyway?”

“You are not. DONE. YET!” she insisted, her voice building into a roar. “YOU HAVEN'T DONE IT PROPERLY!”

“WARP DAMN IT!” he shouted back at her, “WHAT IS IT NOW!”

“Ears,” Macha insisted.

“Huh?”

The eldar shook her head in uncomprehending dismay at the human's ignorance. “My ears,” she repeated. “You haven't even touched them yet. Do it.”

Virtanen's jaw hung slack for a second as he processed the demand. “Your ears are an erogenous zone?”

“I would not ask you otherwise, foolish little mon'keigh. Of COURSE they are,” she snapped, as if every sentient being in the galaxy should know it, and by not knowing it too Virtanen had somehow viciously insulted her.

“If you wanted it, you should have SAID something. Like this?” the Acolyte asked as he began to stroke her ears softly, tracing the edges and producing a soft moan.

But it wasn't enough for Macha. “More firmly,” she insisted. “They will not snap off.”

“Complain, complain,” Virtanen mumbled as he grew bolder and more forceful with his partner's lobes, producing increasingly frantic moans and a rhythmic swaying in her hips as she ground against him.

“Damned clumsy human,” she groaned

“Well, sorry I'm not a limp-wristed eldar...”

“I like it,” Macha interrupted before sighing in apparent satisfaction. “I like it a lot.” Taking it as a sign, Virtanen eased in and bit down lightly on the eldar's other ear, producing a tiny yelp of surprise that quickly melted into an intense moan of ecstasy as he began to twist and turn his trapped wrist between her thighs. After a few moments, he felt a damp warmth that could not have been just sweat against his arm.

“NOW are you satisfied, xeno scum?” Virtanen snapped, feeling more than a bit smug at having gotten the proud eldar so hot and bothered.

He received a vicious headbutt for his trouble, and reeled backwards in pain and surprise, clutching his jaw.

“SAY MY NAME!” Macha bellowed, flipping upright and pouncing on the Acolyte like a wild gyrinx.

“The FUC-”

“Say.” She pinned him once more beneath her body.

“My.” She ripped away his shirt with her bare hands, sending stray buttons flying across the carpet.

“NAME.” With that final pronouncement she slammed him down, golden eyes shining with a feral intensity.

The human merely frowned. “You say mine,” he insisted quietly.

“I asked you first, little one.”

Virtanen's frown eased into a manic grin. “Fair enough... Macha.”

“Very good, Leon,” she cooed as she reached down to slide her smooth fingers into the front of his pants, gently teasing them past his now-aching package and along his thighs behind her. “Nothing will deny me this now,” she muttered.

Virtanen looked worried for a moment, having heard her words and not understood. “Meaning what, Macha? You talking, cryptic, human not following? Remember that bit earlier?”

“This is usually when it happens,” she explained vaguely as she lifted one leg to slide her panties off around her foot, exposing her hairless, virginal mound. “A planet-wide plague, Craftworld-wide military mobilization, an encounter with what I believe your people call a “space hulk”. This is as far as I have ever gotten because of interruptions like those, and even those cases are rare.”

“Did you get this far with Chapter Master Angelos?” Virtanen asked cautiously. Macha laughed hard enough that she stopped bothering to get her panties off the other leg.

“Of course not, fool,” she said once she had finished laughing, having apparently decided that having her panties off one leg was good enough. “He was what we would call,” an eldar word Virtanen did not know. “It translates literally to “empty wraithbone”, but is about the same as celibate.” The eldar then looked down and smirked. “Luckily your “wraithbone” seems plenty full.” Then, just as suddenly as she had laughed, her face turned stern as she glared dangerously at him.

“If you try to pull out, by the blade of Kaela Mensha Khaine I WILL kill you with my fucking MIND,” Macha warned as she guided him to the rim of her yet-unexplored depths. She slowly lowered her weight onto him as his piece pushed past her labia, and she let out a whimper as her maidenhood tore to accommodate its gradual ingress. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she felt his torso against her thighs, his entire length snugly fitted inside her.

Virtanen felt a warm trickle, and looked down to see a small but noticeable amount of blood around his base. Macha's virginity, her constant companion for Emperor only knows how many years, had finally been banished like a daemon back to the Warp. Having noticed her wince, and seeing that the pain had not quite subsided, the Acolyte grinned.

“I guess you were right,” he conceded.

“... about what?”

His grin widened. “No surprise anus daemons.”

The joke earned him a smack on the top of his head. “Of course not,” she scolded. “Though it hurt more than I expected.”

“Are you okay? Should we maybe take a break...” but he never got the chance to finish the sentence. Macha planted her hands on either side of Virtanen's shoulders, raised her ass up off of him and exposing his shaft dripping with her blood and juice, and thrust him back into her. Then again, with more brutal force. Then a third time. With each thrust she grunted from exertion, and between them her breathing grew shallower and faster.

Below her Virtanen thrust upward violently, ramming himself home as deep into her amazingly tight cunt as he could on each stroke, savoring as Macha's groans gradually gave way to cries, which in turn grew to frantic shouts as her breath came it ragged gasps, her previous pain forgotten.

“I WILL NOT BE DENIED!” she screamed aloud over the sound of their bodies slamming together. “THIS MOMENT IS MINE!” Viratnen briefly wondered who Macha was screaming at so fervently, but pushed those thoughts out of his mind as his own feelings of pleasure began to overwhelm him. He grabbed hold of Macha's shapely ass and guided her frantic motions, each meeting of their bodies sounding in thunderous rhythm.

“THEN TAKE IT YOU CRAZY BITCH!” the Acolyte roared as he felt himself burst deep inside Macha's darkest depths, thrusting again and again as he filled her with his warmth. Above him the eldar loosed a wordless banshee's wail as she climaxed, her first orgasm from being fucked hard spreading through every inch of her body like a wildfire, causing her back to arch madly as her hair swept around behind her. The wail continued as she shuddered and spasmed, still grinding her hips into Virtanen's member until her inhumanly long climax finally started to subside.

“I'm not leaving, idiot. I'm not satisfied yet.” Without another word, Virtanen hauled the eldar to her feet and laid her on her stomach across the glass table. “Let's try something else.”

Caressing her bare ass, Virtanen spread Macha a bit wider, provoking a confused but still ecstatic moan. “What...” she muttered as he poured a shot of amasec between her cheeks, working around the rim of her hole with his fingers. “What are you doing?” she asked, her concern obviously mounting.

“Getting you ready.” She had only a moment's warning as she felt the tip of his cock, still stubbornly hard, press against her puckered asshole. “EMPEROR GUIDE MY COCK!” he shouted.

“WAIT, WRONG HOLE!” Macha cried as a slow but unyielding thrust pushed Virtanen deep into her anus, stretching the orifice to a slightly painful degree as he drove forward.

“FUCKER! WHO SAID YOU COU... YOU COULD...”

But as Virtanen rammed himself in again, the feeling of her tight ass being spread by his warm, throbbing member surprised her. With a soft “oh, Isha!”, her anger subsided. Each thrust sent waves of sensation through her body, and her mind was lost once more in a fog of delirious, blissful ecstasy.

“You are still a bastard...” she moaned, feeling his first load slowly dribbling down her thighs as he pounded her backdoor. “I am a Farseer... show... some... fucking... RESPECT!” But she hadn't come down from her first orgasm yet, and having her human lover ravage her like this so soon afterward had her nearly breathless already. And Virtanen knew it.

“And YOU need to LET someone ELSE take over ONCE in a WHILE!” he insisted, grunting with each thrust as he picked up the pace. For her part, Macha's only response was a loud, distinctly undignified moan as the Acolyte began to slowly work her ears once more.

“Uuuuhhhhhhaaaahhhhahahhahaha....” Macha insisted as she gradually lost the capacity for rational thought.

“What was that?” Virtanen asked, struggling to form words for his panting.

“You... good... aaaaahhhh...” she clarified. “Ears... GOOD... YEEEEESSSSS!!!” And for the second time, the Farseer was brought to a screaming orgasm. But this time she couldn't even register her satisfaction with her partner: instead she simply lay on the cold table, quivering and shuddering as he filled her ass the same way he filled her pussy.

Virtanen slumped backwards until he found the couch and collapsed onto it, exhausted, watching Macha tremble and ooze onto the floor from both holes... he'd made quite a mess. What would Inquisitor Cheng think, he wondered? Lose his shit? Congratulate him? Take a few holopics? Yeah, Cheng could be a sleazebag alright, so it would probably be a mix of all three. Fuck that guy.

But his silent musing was interrupted by the sight of the Farseer staggering toward him, the predatory look not yet gone from her eyes.

“What are you...”

“SHUT IT,” she snapped. “We still are not done yet.”

As he sat up Macha knelt on the cushion next to him, and seeing his member starting to grow soft, wrapped her long, delicate fingers around it. Gently, deliberately, she eased the tip into her mouth, and started to clean the semen and vaginal fluids and blood off of it with her tongue. Then, after brushing her hair out of her face, she began to suck, rolling her tongue maddeningly around the head on each stroke and constantly caressing his testicles. Virtanen was surprised when after a few times, Macha pulled back suddenly.

“MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL OR I USE MY TEETH!” she bellowed, before taking his cock all the way to the base.

Resting one hand on her bobbing head, Virtanen dutifully reached out until he found Macha's cum-filled holes, hooked his thumb into her ass, and began to tease her labia.

It took hours, and a bout of showering that was constantly interrupted by especially awkward attempts at showersex, but eventually the duo tired themselves out and collapsed onto the clean linens of the penthouse bed. Macha clung to her lover's side, their legs entwined, and fell asleep listening to his slow, rhythmic breaths.

Macha awoke with a start. She was lying in bed wrapped with fresh linens with her arms thrown around a pillow... alone. Again. It seemed like the lights of Biel-Tan were dimmed, so she reasoned it was morning, but Isha's love her body was SORE. She must have been particularly disgusting last night, and didn't want to think about how much of her stock of intoxicants she had gone through for her head to feel so fuzzy and her body so utterly spent. She tried to lift herself up, but her body rebelled from the waist down and eventually her arms gave out as well. So she resigned herself to day of bedrest.

“I need to stop doing this to myself,” she muttered. Well, soon at least. Maybe next time she'd try to remember to drink less.

After a few minutes she tried again to force herself up to a sitting position, and managed somehow. Emboldened, she rolled out of her sheets and landed on her feet: it was only when she looked down that she noticed she hadn't bothered to put on anything before sleeping.

Odd, she thought.

Now that she took some time to look around, staggering about with her pelvis and thighs screaming in agony, her room looked different as well.

In the other room, she could swear someone was cooking a cured meat of some variety. Her eyes slowly widened in dawning comprehension, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth...

Commander Virtanen snapped awake with a start and a cry, alerting the woman who had been sound asleep next to him.

“Leon, you okay?” she asked frantically. “What's wrong?”

Still panting, Virtanen crashed back onto his pillow with a dull thump and covered his face. “Fuck me, I wish that'd stop already.”

“Another nightmare?” the woman asked, pulling herself close to the man's side. “That's the third this week.”

“It was bad, Grim,” he admitted. “The worst yet.”

“It's because you worry too much,” Grim scolded. “You worry about us, you worry about the team, you worry about the mission. Of course it's going to get to you. Tomorrow, I hope you'll at least have one less thing to worry about.”

“And you don't worry about shit like this, Katala?” he asked, ruffling her pale blonde hair.

“Of course not,” she teased. “You worry for us, and that helps keep us safe.”

Grim kissed Virtanen's chest, gently running her fingers through his hair. “But for now, it does nobody any good. Just relax... and sleep.”

Virtanen's mind drifted through a haze of half-remembered thoughts and stray memories, each lacking anything substantial to connect to. Lights and metallic noises like whirring and buzzing swirled around him, there was a pain like a thousand burning needles flooding through his eyes and into his brain, and for a moment it felt as if he passed beyond the limits of pain itself and into an entirely different realm of sensation. It was horrifying and fascinating, what was being done to him, and he was silently grateful that he knew he would never be able to piece the whole series of events together.

A large, black-haired man was the first coherent image that greeted the Commander upon awaking. He was standing by Virtanen's bed reading over a chart... a strange pursuit for someone built like the bastard child of the bearded lady and a main battle tank.

“So, Commander, you're finally awake,” the man observed. His voice was strangely pleasing to Virtanen's ears, and familiar: the Admiral in charge of the US Space Fleet's “Human Enhancement Project”. Whatever the fuck his name was.

“Yeah, lucky me,” he muttered blearily, looking around the small room. Apparently he'd been transferred to a regular hospital ship for recovery. “How'd the others do, sir?”

Virtanen sat upright fast enough that he ripped out one of the tubes that had been stuck in him without noticing. His head swam from lack of blood, but he didn't notice that either. “You mean they died? Who made it? Is Katala... I mean...”

“Master Chief Petty Officer Katala Grim is currently in stasis aboard the Botany Bay,” the man explained. “Her condition would be too unstable at present, but we're hoping to process their remains...”

“You mean you're going to just finish them off?!” Virtanen cried, rolling to his feet and stumbling across the room to stare out the viewport at the Botany Bay. “That's fucking insane!”

The giant man placed one hand on the Commander's shoulder, only to have it batted away. “We need to salvage something from these failed...”

“You...” Virtanen fumed. “You sick BASTARD! What the hell are we to you?! What's the point in “advancing” humanity if we have to do shit like this to do it?!” The officer was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, but probably wouldn't know what to make of what was going on around him even if his full attention were turned to it. His skin pulsed slightly red, his thin paper gown blew as if on a nonexistent wind, and small objects about the room slowly slid away from him.

“Some sacrifices must be made,” the Admiral declared, his own skin and eyes beginning to glow a pale yellow. “You can't stop progress, Mister Virtanen, and you sure as hell can't stop me.”

“No,” the Commander muttered, turning his attention back to the Botany Bay floating in the void just outside his window. “But I can manage a nice little “fuck you”, at least.”

With a sudden outpouring of energy, enough to burn his skin and cause his eyes to bleed, Virtanen reached out towards the research vessel and gripped it in his mind. Sealed hatches blew out and bulkheads buckled, and a huge section of the ship was opened to space, flinging the bodies of crew and scientists into the emptiness of low Earth orbit. Then, reality itself screamed and distorted at a single point where Virtanen knew the laws of physics as he had been taught were being twisted and tortured to the point of breaking. Summoning his remaining strength, he pushed. The Botany Bay was devoured by titanic forces that were beyond the young officer's understanding: all he cared about was that Grim and the others were still in stasis, somewhere far out of reach of anyone who would hurt them any further.

“I win... this round... fucktard...” the Commander declared weakly before collapsing from overexertion. The furious roars of the man who would live to call himself “Emperor” were the last thing he heard, and it brought a smile to his heart.

Some twenty-three thousand years later, Inquisitor Leon Virtanen awoke with a start to find himself alone in his bed. After a brief search of his penthouse, he discovered that the eldar Farseer Macha was nowhere to be found. Yet another complication, he supposed. She'd be back... probably.

“Sorry, Grim,” he muttered as he fell back into bed. “I still worry too much, don't I?”

Lydia Petrichenko was having a particularly good day. Not only was she no longer in the employ of Inquisitor Cheng, whom she could charitably describe as a disgusting fucking pig, but he had seen fit to “gift” the lieutenant to Inquisitor Virtanen. While she wasn't thrilled about being treated like property, the results couldn't have been better. She had secretly adored Virtanen since he had come aboard Cheng's ship, and he had always treated her far better than the rest of the crew. Every time she saw him he'd give her a friendly smile, and occasionally they'd even have a brief conversation in the mornings.

And now she found herself stepping out of the lighter onto a landing pad outside a penthouse high above the largest spire on Hai Fong, the powerful crosswinds and the wash from the departing craft whipping her hair. She had expected some sort of assistant, but was surprised to find the Inquisitor himself waiting to greet her.

“Welcome to Hai Fong, Miss Petrichenko,” he called, smiling as he approached. With one hand he grabbed one of her bags, and waved back towards the door with his other hand. “Let's get inside, shall we?” Lydia simply nodded in agreement, unsure whether she could make herself heard over the wind. She followed him wordlessly into the suite.

“Now then,” he continued, “first thing, while we're here your room will be the first on the left.”

“Shall we dump my stuff there, then finish talking?” she asked, suddenly worried that she might have just spoken out of turn.

Virtanen noticed that she had suddenly grown tense. “Easy, Lieutenant. It's no good if you're afraid to speak your mind in front of me. But yeah, let's drop your stuff then we'll talk.” They quickly set her baggage by the foot of the bed and the felinid promptly flopped down on it. The Inquisitor sat in a comfortable-looking chair in the corner.

“So you're going to be my helmsman... er, helmswoman? Once I can get a ship?” Virtanen asked. “You think you can fly an Eldar ship?”

“Probably,” Petrichenko mused. She rolled over onto her back and shot a sudden, nervous glance at the Inquisitor. “Why, we planning on stealing one? Because I know we felinids have a reputation, but I don't think I could anyone could manage that.”

“Oh, no reason.”

“I see,” she sighed. “Nicer accommodations than I'm used to. Pent house suite, very classy.” The bed was soft, and the whole room felt so much more spacious and welcoming than even an officer's cabin aboard a warship.

Virtanen chuckled to himself. “Yeah, people tend to roll out the red carpet for an Inquisitor.”

Petricheko smiled. “I think I'll like working with you, Sir.”

“Same, Lieutenant. I'll let you get some sleep for now, you look dead tired. I'll be outside for a while stripping and cleaning all my personal equipment, should you need anything.” With a curt nod and a reassuring smile, Virtanen excused himself.

Finally alone again, Lydia began to unpack. She quickly brushed her teeth, and slipped out of her clothes. Too tired to figure out where she'd packed her sleepwear, she elected to stay in her shorts and athletic bra. Then, she quietly retrieved a pillow from her bags and sank back down onto her bed with it. It wasn't for a lack of pillows in the room, since the bed already had four of them. Lydia buried her face in it, and curled up tight on top of the comforter.

Curled up with the pillow she had left behind on Cheng's ship, Lydia silently thanked the Emperor for reuniting her with her Inquisitor, and prayed that this time nothing would separate them again. Gradually, a smile still tugging at her lips, she slid into a deep sleep.

The Farseer gave her niece a manic grin. “Please, little one. Just let me have this moment. And you remembered to lock the door behind you?”

“Just like you told me.” The little half-eldar grinned. “They're gonna be so mad.”

“Oh,” Macha insisted, “more than you could imagine...”

It began with vague white noise, the static of a vid-player that had yet to receive an input signal. In her sleep, Taldeer stirred slightly at the nuisance. Thinking that LIIVI must have left it on by mistake, she nudged her husband in the ribs.

“Honey,” she muttered, “kill that damn thing, would you?”

Then, she heard something more familiar: the voice of someone she knew. The smooth, unintentionally sultry contralto could only belong to her sister, who had gone missing some time ago. The Farseer sat up in bed and stared at the vid-player in wide-eyed disbelief as she realized what she was watching.

“... LIIVI!?”

On-screen, her sister was laying on a bed, the bare flesh of her breasts and stomach pressed against the silky linens and her smooth, toned ankles up in the air behind her. She beckoned to someone just out of frame, a seductive smile tugging at her lips. “Come here,” she said as she slid her knees forward and raised her hips. “Do not keep me waiting, lover mon'keigh.” As the image of a tall, well-muscled human male positioned himself behind Macha, Taldeer's dismay reached a zenith.

In Ulthwe's Dome of Crystal, Eldrad grinned to himself. “Unbelievable, aren't they?” he muttered to the trees before him. “Be patient,” he continued, as if continuing one half of a conversation between himself and some unseen entity. “The time will come soon enough, so let them make it here at their own pace.”

Meanwhile, Taldeer shook with fury as she tried to find any words to fit the situation, watching the image of her sister getting pounded hard from behind by some human she'd never met. “I... I can't believe I was actually worried about that little bitch...” she hissed. “And it turns out she was just slutting her way across the galaxy this whole time!?”

Next to her, LIIVI chuckled quietly. “Tertiary Asset is a grown woman. I am unsure as to why there would be cause for concern. It seems she fared quite well on her own.”

As Macha and her yet-unnamed partner changed positions, with the Farseer now sitting on the human's lap to face the camera while he fucked her ass from below, Taldeer shot a glare at her husband. The man seemed to be watching the action onscreen far too closely for her comfort...

“You're getting hard watching my sister get fucked, aren't you?” Taldeer accused with a scowl as the image of Macha on their screen contorted with pleasure and the audio peaked from frantic cries as she came for the second time.

“Negative?” LIIVI offered quietly, until the weight of Taldeer's glare caused him to cave. “... affirmative.”

“Why? Am I that uninteresting? If I leave on that stupid mission tomorrow, am I going to come back to a house full of Callidus floozies or something?”

“And you have no idea as to the whereabouts of this Farseer you claim to have captured?”

The Acolyte swallowed hard “Not for three months, sir.”

The older Inquisitor sighed. “Considering you were the least unsuccessful of your peers, and that in surviving the encounter have proven to be the only one to achieve basic competence,” Cheng continued, casting a seething glance at the other two Acolytes in the room, one of whom was still in a full-body cast after being mauled by a wild grox, “I have arranged to grant you status as an Inquisitor. Congratulations, I suppose.” The man almost reluctantly applauded Virtanen, accompanied by the Acolyte who still had use of his arms. The one in the cast merely whimpered for his attendant to increase his dosage of painkillers.

Virtanen nodded quietly. That would have gone better if that crazy bitch hadn't suddenly disappeared on him like that. The nerve... didn't even leave a note. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sir!” one of the bridge technicians recently assigned to Cheng's ship chimed: alone at her post in the otherwise vacated compartment.

“Yes?” both old and new Inquisitor replied, before Cheng waved at his junior dismissively.

“Auspex sweeps picked up a small ship... Raider class.”

“Range?”

The technician checked her display. “Ten kilometers and closing.”

“Practically on top of us,” Virtanen observed. “A Webway portal?”

Cheng nodded. “Must have been. Course?”

“Tracking straight for us, sir,” the tech replied. “Shall I have it destroyed?”

Virtanen glanced at his mentor, who merely shrugged. “The hell is one Raider going to do to us? Let's see how this plays out, but have the crew beat to quarters.”An alarm sounded throughout the ship, and along all five kilometers of the cruiser naval personnel manned their stations.

“Five kilometers, velocity increasing,” the technician updated.

“Four kilometers.” Virtanen glanced at Cheng nervously.

“Three kilometers.”

“Are we going to do something?” Virtanen mumbled. “Now would be the time.”

Virtanen was suddenly treated to the sight of Inquisitor Cheng going round-eyed as he realized the situation. “EVASIVE-” he screamed.

“TOO LATE!” Virtanen cried, lunging to key the internal vox system even as he stared in disbelief out the viewport and into the cockpit of the eldar craft: now close enough for him to see the pilot's red hair. “BRACE!”

It felt as if the entire universe had suddenly imploded, then reassembled itself in a moment... but inside-out. Inquisitor Virtanen was thrown across the bridge by the force of the impact before feeling himself sucked quickly back toward the Void outside the gaping hole at the front of the now-ruined bridge. Then, as soon as it began, emergency void shielding reestablished atmospheric stability and Virtanen tumbled back to the deck.

Looking about him he could see that the Vampire had crash-landed, not only destroying most of the bridge but taking out one of the bulkheads on the side. It also narrowly missed not only Cheng, but also the uninjured Acolyte and the lone bridge tech who had stayed on through his anticlimactic ceremony. A piece of wreckage, however, had apparently re-broken half of the second Acolyte's bones. Oh well. Better that poor bastard than him.

With a hiss, the hatch on the eldar raider swung open, and a familiar figure stepped out.

“MACHA!?” Virtanen exclaimed, stunned. “Where the hell have YOU been, and what the fuck did you just do that for?”

But the Farseer was clearly in no mood for small talk. “Official duties,” she replied, grabbing him firmly by the wrist. “No time to explain, get in the raider.”

The fledgeling Inquisitor looked over his shoulder at Cheng, who had begun dusting himself off as officers and emergency crews alike began to arrive. Wordlessly, he pleaded with his mentor to save him.

“This is far more interesting than what I had planned for the afternoon,” Cheng admitted. “I assume this is the Farseer in your report.”

“Yes sir?”

“Then don't keep the nice lady waiting,” he replied with a sagely nod. “It's about time you got the fuck off my ship. And take Lieutenant Petrichenko with you.” A nearby naval officer with an augmatic eye stopped dead in her tracks as she lifted a piece of equipment off the Acolyte's crushed and battered body.

“What?” she asked, not believing what she'd just heard. The debris dropped back onto the Acolyte she had been helping, producing an agonized moan.

“You'll need a good helmsman,” Cheng explained, “so consider Petrichenko's appointment my 'graduation gift' to you.” The Lieutenant opened her mouth to speak, but a glare from the Inquisitor seemed to make her reconsider.

“If you are coming,” Macha sighed, grabbing the helmswoman by her shoulder, “then get in the ship.” With one last look of desperation, Petrichenko yielded and disappeared into the Vampire.

“So what the hell was SO important you had to crash your Warp-damned ship into my superior's bridge?” Vitanen asked loudly, the absurdity of the situation starting to test his patience.

Macha pulled him into the passenger compartment as the hatch closed behind them, before releasing her grip on his wrist. “I am taking you to Ulthwé,” she explained, as if that was an adequate way to allay the Inquisitor's concerns. “Congratulations,” she added.

“What?”

“You are now an Inquisitor. Congratulations.”

“Okay...” Vitanen frowned as the Farseer busied herself with extracting her ship from Inquisitor Cheng's bridge. Once cleared, she swapped places with Petrichenko, leaning in through the small hatch between the cockpit and the passenger bay.

“Thrust,” she insisted, pointing to a handle. “Thrust vectoring,” she added, pointing to a second handle.

“Pitch, yaw, roll,” she continued. “The navigational display will show your intended vector into the Webway to reach Ulthwé.”

“It should not take long.”

The Lieutenant turned to stare at Virtanen through the hatch as Macha stepped out of the cockpit. “Real chatterbox, isn't she?”

“A little crazy,” Virtanen muttered as the Farseer's hand dragged him back by his collar, before the hatch slammed shut.

“So we're going to Ulthwé for WHAT reason?” the Inquisitor snapped. “You still haven't explained what's going on.... aaand you're not listening, are you?” Sure enough, the Farseer seemed otherwise occupied with the fly on Virtanen's uniform. However, she did eventually manage a response.

Virtanen shook his head. “What, you mean you went three months without...”

“OF COURSE,” Macha snapped, suddenly squeezing the Inquisitor's balls in a vice-like grip that provoked a grunt of pain. “I explained it to you, did I not? Most Farseers are involuntarily celibate.”

“Right,” Virtanen groaned, “you did mention that, yeah.”

The Farseer pulled her hair back off her shoulders and pushed the man into a seat behind him, lowering herself gracefully to her knees. “I feel like indulging,” she explained as she lowered her head, “and I trust you will know what to do.” She lifted her chin to lock eyes with the Inquisitor in a probing glare. He noted that while they lacked the feral glint of desperation from before, there was still an intensity there: a sort of smoldering glow in the yellow irises that betrayed their owner's intents.

Macha turned her attention back to the thing that only three months ago had taken her maidenhood. Using one hand she slowly caressed and stroked the length of his shaft, and with the second she gently but firmly gripped his sack: as if trying to ensure that he wouldn't try to pull away. Once she had a good grip, the eldar placed her smooth lips around the tip, and Virtanen felt her tongue flick across his sensitive skin. Even as her fingertips teased him with agonizing precision and tenderness, her tongue pressed down onto the very tip, sending an electric jolt through his whole body as it dipped ever so slightly into the urethra.

“Throne, Macha,” he moaned as the sensations produced by her tongue and lips made his heart race and his head dizzy, “you really DID miss me...”

The Inquisitor placed his hands gently atop the Farseer's head, fumbling to strip the gloves from his fingertips. Growing impatient, Macha took action. Without easing off, she reached one hand up to yank the gloves away with a single motion each, nearly succeeding in ripping away one of Virtanen's fingers with them. She then insistently gripped one hand in hers and pulled it to her ear before clawing at his shirt as he began to tease the long, elegant auricles.

Virtanen barely had the focus required to clumsily work Macha's ears the way she had shown him before disappearing three months prior, but the effect was immediately apparent. The eldar attacked his cock with a vigor he hadn't seen before, tongue and lips dancing and sliding up and down the full length with such dexterity that it felt as if three women were somehow coordinating to drive him insane with unrelenting ecstasy. In response he worked her ears harder and faster, and he could faintly hear her moaning around a mouthful of cock.

It did not take long at all before Virtanen could no longer hold back, and he felt Macha pull away as the feeling from her ears began to overwhelm her whole body and she let out a wild shout.

“NO YOU DON'T, XENO” he barked, pulling her onto himself by her ears until he felt his member hit the back of her throat. A second later he felt a great release of pressure as he unloaded down the back of Macha's throat, ravaging her as he continued to pump as deep and as hard as he could. Finally he released her ears, and finished with one last shot across her face.

Looking down at the Farseer, Virtanen couldn't immediately tell whether he had made a mistake or not. She was blushing furiously, but at the same time she was shaking with anger. She tried to start a sentence, then paused. Then, she started again.

“... I know we both enjoy roughness and force.” But gradually, her anger seemed to fade somewhat, replaced by something Virtanen hadn't seen before in Macha's eyes: he swore he could see tears.

“... say my name,” she told him quietly.

The Inquisitor felt his heart drop as he realized what he had done, and began to understand what it had meant to his partner. Reaching down, he lifted Macha onto his lap, and wrapped her in a gentle embrace.

“I'm sorry, Macha,” he whispered to her. “I guess I'm still not sure what to think about all this.”

His admission seemed to put the red-haired Farseer at ease, and her own arms found their way around him. “I suppose I can understand... it must be as unusual for you to be with an eldar as it is for me to be with a human.” She pulled away, just enough to look down at him. “We will make this work, Leon.”

Virtanen nodded. “Of course.”

A noise to one side snapped them both out of their precious moment, and suddenly both were very much aware that they were not alone. Lieutenant Petrichenko stood silently, an unreadable expression on her face, as if she were pondering the heresy she had just witnessed: Virtanen came to the startling realization that his trousers were still around his ankles, he had a Farseer sitting in his lap, and her face was still splattered with a little bit of incriminating white fluid.

“... we're on autopilot.” Petrichenko muttered, utterly without emotion. “I'll be up front.” Then, as quietly as she had stood during the whole affair, she turned to leave, closing the hatch behind her.

Virtanen wasn't sure what he was seeing anymore, and wasn't even sure where he was or how he got here... wherever here was. All he knew is that he was not alone.

And that he was terrified.

It wasn't the ordinary, garden variety of terror. Virtanen was well-acquainted with a fear for one's life, and with the fear of the unknown. He had faced horrors in battle and stood strong. But this was different. There was no obvious threat, and yet he felt his heart racing and his breath coming in ragged gasps as if he had been running for his life for hours already. Sweat poured from his brow and his blood felt like ice, stinging him from inside his own veins. But these were only side effects, symptoms of a feeling that went completely beyond fear.

For even fear has a basis in reason, a logical expectation of danger or injury, and somehow the Inquisitor knew: this was a place he should not be, where “reason” carried no weight and his worst fears could be breathed into reality on a whim.

Around him several figures began to come into focus: one was blurred more than the others, and the Inquisitor couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. The second was a giant of a man, tall and broad in the shoulders, and he wore a suit the the sort of which ancient businessmen and politicians were said to have worn on Terra. About his neck was a blood-red tie, which seemed to bear low-relief stitching in a sort of geometric pattern Virtanen thought at first must have been abstract, but upon closer inspection seemed... familiar. Next to him were two more men: one clearly a hundred pounds overweight, covered in rags, who was having a coughing fit into his torn sleeve. The last was a tall, gangly creature, with eyes that never seemed to stop darting about... Virtanen could practically hear the thoughts in his head running a mile a minute, plans forming briefly, mutating, then each dissipating with the rise of the next.

They seemed to be in a room together, circled about a figure seated on the floor. Each spoke to the other, but for some reason Virtanen couldn't understand what they were saying at all. The language was too fast, and too varied. Guttural one moment, soothing the next, then grating, all woven fluidly together in an unceasing barrage that clouded his mind and made it difficult to focus.

Summoning all the courage he could muster, the Inquisitor stole closer to the figure in the center, a bright green glow filling his eyes: it was shaped like a person, and Virtanen could see long hair fluttering calmly about its body. But it was made entirely of light, ghostly and translucent, and sat deathly still amid the chaos of the room. Focusing on it seemed to block out some of the noise, much to his relief.

“Welcome, young one,” came a small voice behind Virtanen's back. Whirling about he found himself facing... a child?

“What are you doing here?” he asked the newcomer, “and how is it that you're the only one who seems to notice me? Who are these people?”

The child smiled... a gesture that the Inquisitor found anything but reassuring. “Four you know, two you have met.” He then looked over Virtanen's shoulder at the glowing green figure. “I suppose I should let her explain... I find myself tiring, anyway.”

“We will not meet again. May you go with my blessing.” Then, he was gone.

When did he leave? Wait... was that...

Suddenly, he was jolted back to his senses as a hand gripped his shoulder. It forced him to turn about, and Virtanen found himself staring straight into the empty face of the green ghost, whose touch burned his skin.

“YOU CANNOT BE HERE!” a stern, but fair voice cried. It sounded familiar...

“WAKE UP, LEON! NOW!”

In a flash, Macha found her body slammed against a bulkhead, Virtanen's bolt pistol jammed in her mouth. His eyes had gone wide, and were full of a look she had seen on every victim of the Warp she had ever encountered. For a moment, he stood there panting, his fingers closing tightly around her throat even as her eyes pleaded with him in a way her voice could not.

Then, as quickly as he had assaulted her, he released her again, slumping to the deck.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I saw... I saw...”

But he was incapable of forming the thought any further, and Macha understood perfectly. Taking the bolt pistol out of his hand and setting it aside, she began to stroke his hair like a mother would to console a child.

“I know, Leon. I know what you saw, and I know you did not mean to attack me.” As he struggled to catch his breath, Macha pulled him into her lap, and held his head tight to her chest. “Sleep,” she whispered. “Let go... and sleep.”

The Inquisitor grew still, and Macha breathed a sigh of temporary relief.

“Throne... the hell happened? I remember being in a room... and there...” But the Inquisitor was quickly silenced.

“It is a long story.” Macha snapped, perhaps a little harsher than she intended. “I do not wish to recount those events.” Seeing that Virtanen still refused to let the issue go, she sighed.

“I am a Farseer, and have seen many bizarre things in my long life. Even I have utterly failed to grasp what happened with that child in the Warp, and I have finished pondering it.” She then allowed her frown to soften as she took a seat next to the Inquisitor in preparation for their docking at Ulthwe, fastening the final load-bearing strap on the elaborate armor she had been wearing the day they met.

“You would do well not to ponder it yourself.”

Virtanen nodded slowly. “Yeah... I think I get what you mean.” There was a long silence between them.

“I'm not understanding this,” Petrichenko called back from the cockpit hatch. “Things are buzzing, and beeping, and I can't read any of the displays.”

Taking it as an excuse, Macha quickly rose, leaving Virtanen to sit quietly by himself for a few moments as the raider exited the Webway, diving in between larger vessels on its way to a predetermined berth. It took mere minutes before he heard a dull thud.

They had arrived.

Macha strode back as the rear hatch folded open, with Petrichenko in tow, ears pinned back at the strange sight of the inside of a Craftworld. “Both of you need to stay close. The Lieutenant will be staying at my sister's home for the time being. Unfortunately there will be little time for introductions.”

“So you're just going to dump me off at some xeno's dwelling?” the helmswoman asked, seething. “Is that your plan?”

Virtanen was about to reply, but Macha spoke quicker. “This is a private matter. You will be safe so long as you stay with my sister.”

“Is she a Farseer as well?” Virtanen asked, stepping out into the Craftworld.

“Indeed.”

The trio kept a quick pace: apparently Macha's sister had a home large enough to have its own berth for small space and air-borne craft, so the walk was brief. The home itself looked almost as if it had been grown out of the gargantuan ship itself, which Virtanen reminded himself could very well have been the case. Knocking on the door produced an unexpected response: a short-haired human in a form-fitting black suit. He must have been an assassin, the Inquisitor reasoned.

“LIIVI.” Macha nodded to the man, who merely nodded in return. “Please look after this woman along with Taldeer as she convalesces. I will return for her soon.”

Petrichenko gave an immense sigh of relief, ears finally perking back up. “Thank the Emperor it's another human,” she muttered, her body language all but begging the insane Inquisitor and his xeno consort to simply forget about her.

“Touch him and Taldeer will murder you with mind bullets,” Macha warned her, already tugging a still-confused Virtanen along behind her.

“The hell are we going now?” he spat once he was reasonably sure they were out of earshot.

“To take care of something important to me,” Macha replied. “And to you as well, though you may not know it yet.”

The scenery around them shifted: the larger, denser urban growth connected by a system of curving, almost riverine pathways which seemed to dot the landscape seemed more distant now, and even the sort of lone manors that Taldeer called home were few. But ahead, there was a single structure: an immense dome, towards which Macha led him silently.

Passing through an outer row of columns, Virtanen came to the sudden realization that the whole dome was comprised of crystalline trees. Noticing his jaw hanging slightly, Macha had to smile.

“This is Ulthwe's 'Dome of Crystal', the center of the Infinity Circuit that runs the length and width of the Craftworld. This is where I needed to bring you.”

“It's pretty,” Virtanen admitted, “but I fail to see why I needed to...”

“Do you trust me?” Macha interrupted.

Virtanen knew well enough that the question carried great weight in his partner's mind: she wouldn't have asked to confirm it if it weren't important. Stepping closer to her, he gently kissed her on the lips, one hand only just caressing her ear before uttering words that a few months ago he doubted he could ever say to a xeno. Even now, they sounded strange to him.

“Of course I trust you, Macha.”

They were in the center of the grove now. The artificial light of the Craftworld filtered softly through to illuminate their surroundings in a dusky glow, and the trees caught what little fell on them and refracted it, glittering in the dim. It was then that Macha began to slowly, almost provocatively, remove her armor. As she knelt, each individual piece came off and was set aside in an orderly fashion. A quick glance at Virtanen told him he should do the same.

“This will be unlike anything you have ever done before, Leon,” she explained. “It will be dangerous for both of us, but hopefully more than worth any risk over time.”

“You sound serious,” he observed quietly. “Wait... you can't mean...”

“Exactly,” she whispered. “We will be enhancing the experience psychically.”

“Is that wise?”

Macha smiled. “No. Try to relax.”

The Inquisitor did as she requested, and lay on his back. The strange alien groundcover was rough against his bare skin as Macha reached for him. “This will not do,” she sighed, finding his member still inert and lifeless.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “but it's hard to get it up given the circumstances.”

Macha nodded quietly. “Very well. We will begin with this instead... reach out to me.”

“I'm not a psyker,” he stated blankly. “I can't do what you're asking.” But Macha seemed unconvinced. She closed her eyes, and sat cross-legged in the grass next to him. He could see her breathing slow, each breath only lifting her breasts an imperceptible margin until it seemed to cease altogether.

“You were in my dream. You can do this,” she stated calmly. “I am touching the borders of your mind already... all you must do is believe in me.”

With a deep breath, Virtanen shut his eyes, focusing his thoughts on the eldar... the person sitting so close to him. He wanted... what did he want, anyway? What did SHE want from him? Her people were so prideful by nature, so why had she lowered herself to allowing him to fuck her in the first place? Was it... loneliness? Reaching out into the darkness, Virtanen found a sudden warmth: but not with his fingertips.

He opened his eyes, and Macha was smiling at him. “Very good,” she smelled... wait, what?

“How is it that you can smell HAPPY?” the Inquisitor asked, struggling to cope with the surreal quality of the situation.

“Synesthesia,” Macha explained, accompanied by a foreign smell that reminded him vaguely of lilacs. “Sensory input is activating unusual receptors, allowing you to “smell” words and sounds. No doubt a side effect of the psychic link I just forged between us.”

The fact that there were side effects involved spoke volumes about how dangerous what they were now doing truly was, but at the same time it opened up a whole new world of details to the pair's senses. Macha found that she could now taste the gentle rustling of the grass beneath them as she straddled Virtanen's hips: a soft, subtle flavor like lightly-brewed herbal tea. For his part Virtanen's nose was full of the scent of Macha's moan as he slid into her, like the faint scent of ozone after a thunderstorm.

“This is different,” the Farseer moaned as she ground slowly against Virtanen. “More enjoyable than I had anticipated...” But Virtanen was not listening to her.

“Leon?” Macha moaned as he thrust violently into her, lifting her into the air with each stroke. “That is nice... but try not to waste too much energy.” Virtanen responded by throwing her off of him, lifting her feet over his shoulders.

“Are you even listening to MEEEeee?” she yelped as Virtanen plunged himself into her up to his root. Something was wrong... since he had reached out to her through the Warp his movements lacked the usual tenderness she had become accustomed to. There was no thought behind them: only force.

“Oh Gods,” Macha moaned as unwanted pleasure flooded through her body, despite what she had only just realized. “Oh Gods, please... no...” The ravishment continued ceaselessly. Virtanen attacked her again, continuing to pin her body to the grass and thrusting wildly despite having just fired off a load inside her.

Macha screamed, trying desperately to reach any part of her lover that could still hear her. “PLEASE, LEON! PLEASE LIST-”

A long tongue trailed up the length of her body, sending nerve impulses screaming through her whole frame and filling her gut with disgust at the overwhelming sense of violation. The owner... this thing was no longer the human she had fallen in love with. It slid its disgusting appendage across her face, stroking her chin and provoking one final scream of horror before it plunged down her throat, effectively silencing her protests.

The thing looked over its conquest, pinned beneath its body. As its new tongue slid into the eldar's mouth and down her throat, its lips met hers in a foul travesty of a kiss. Now, there were two holes remaining and one tool left to use. The math was simple enough that even the mindless semi-daemon could figure it out. If its tools were lacking, all it needed was a new one. And with its new blessings, it knew exactly how to procure what it needed. All it took was a moment's concentration.

The bestial second cock was exactly what the job called for. Without a second's hesitation, the beast plunged it into Macha's ass, muffled screams of pain finding their way around the monstrous tongue that still violated her so. She twisted and writhed against her inhuman assailant as it continued to pound her ass and cunt for several minutes, cumming again and again. Claws ravaged her ears, for the first time delivering unimaginable pain instead of sublime pleasure. Her spasms and moans gradually ceased, and as the beast grew more and more to resemble a daemonette Macha's resistance faltered. The daemon felt her tongue sliding and slurping about its own, as if silently pleading for the violation to continue.

With one last muffled scream as the claw that used to be Virtanen's hand caressed her soulstone in an almost tender gesture, her soul finally broke. The soulstone cracked under a sudden pressure, and the Farseer's beautiful golden eyes turned jet-black as the transformation she had been barely holding back since the violation began set into motion.

And as she screamed, trapped in a corner of his mind that was still somehow his own, Virtanen was forced to watch. He wanted to scream, but found himself unable to do so, utterly alone as he watched his body corrupt and destroy the woman he loved.

“Leon, you are more than this. Remember who you are. Remember.”

Gabe was in rare form today.

His body was so Gods-damned big, in every possible dimension. He was muscular and virile, and yet he was also surprisingly kind. He had a wisdom that most eldar would not believe was possible from a human. And he was all hers. Loyal, brave, true... and especially, big in all the places Macha cared about.

His bone was every bit as big as one would expect given his frame, so big that he had to take care not to injure Macha as he impaled her. As always, her body struggled to accommodate his girth, stretching painfully in all directions. But she bit her lip, because as much as it hurt at first she knew what would come next, and she knew that nothing else could possibly compare. Despite her attempt at control, she very nearly came to climax just from him pushing into her, and little moans escaped through her teeth at the slow, inexorable progress.

“By Isha, have you gotten even bigger?” Macha moaned as she felt Gabriel bottom out with almost a finger's length of shaft still exposed beneath her. If she hadn't been so wet in anticipation, this might have been a problem.

“Yeah right. He was chem-gelded and you know it.”

"Yes," whispered Macha, releasing her grasp on the boy's arms as she leaned back and began undoing his robes. "It's time for you to learn what it is to be the dominant one..."

The choirboy shuddered as his skin was slowly exposed to the cold air, raising little goose-pimples on arms too young to carry more than the finest layer of hairs. He let out a little moan of anticipation as she revealed his erection: a little on the small side, but healthy for his age. Macha licked her lips.

“The Emperor protects, His divine Truth shall be my guiding Light, His will shall be my Calling,” the boy began to chant, the depth of the impending Heresy clearly weighing heavily on his young mind as Macha grasped his member and laid him down against the cold stone floor.

“Now now,” she purred. “Remember that I am the one in charge here... and you will do as I say.” Then she smiled. “But also remember that I am not an unkind mistress... it is not allowed for you not to feel this. I say you are to cum, and cum you shall.”

“Now, little mon'keigh.” Macha positioned her own damp slit directly above the choir boy's quivering manhood, “Let us see what can be made of you...”

“Aw, really Macha? That's just plain WRONG, and more than a little concerning.”

When the pair returned to their senses, two things happened at about the same time. The first thing was that the product of several consecutive orgasms without the usual accompanying physical release caught up with both of them. The second was that both suddenly were free to act upon the horror of their previous situation, producing a predictable amount of screaming. The result was remarkable.

Eldar and human let loose bloodcurdling screams as ejaculate and other bodily liquids were let loose in normally impossible proportions, their eyes still wide in terror. Then, gradually the terror faded, and the screams took on a different quality. Any semblance of control was lost as their orgasmic cries echoed through the grove and both of their bodies still pumped, ground, and flailed for an indeterminate period of time as if guided by a drunken puppeteer. As the overwhelming sensation of the orgasms faded, they finally slumped back to the ground, both gasping for air.

“You... not a trick?” Macha asked desperately, probing the skin of Virtanen's face as if looking for the edges of a mask.

He nodded weakly. “...not a daemonette?”

“Isha, what YOU must have just seen...” she muttered. “No... I am myself” Noticing a weak, but obviously questioning glance from her partner, the Farseer continued.

“Slaanesh,” she explained. “Bitch took an opportunity to attack us while I was most vulnerable. If we were anywhere else, she might have gotten a permanent hold. The Dome shielded us... just not quite as thoroughly as I had hoped.”

“Because,” she continued, fingers tenderly caressing the man's stubbornly solid erection, “our minds are touching, but we need to go even further.” With that pronouncement she flicked his tip, sending a jolt through his body.

“I can't do this just yet,” Virtanen moaned, rolling onto his stomach. “My whole pelvis feels like it's one big bruise... but I can do this much at least.”

He kissed Macha's navel, tongue flickering across her flesh and provoking a strange feeling around the Inquisitor's own stomach that distracted him somewhat from her moaning. He then shifted his weigh a little bit, kissing the insides of her thighs while playfully teasing one nipple with his fingers. Strangely, Virtanen squirmed as his thighs felt as if Macha's breath was on his skin, and he felt an almost icy twinge in one nipple.

Virtanen, however, was fascinated by what he was discovering, and moved yet again. He turned her face gently away from his, and blew lightly on one of her ears. For the first time, the Inquisitor swore he heard Macha actually giggle like a little Schola-girl. Also for the first time, he understood why: he felt a sensation from his ear that was almost as pleasant as the last time Macha had gone down on him, and could only imagine that she was feeling the same or better. Emboldened he put his lips to the upper boundary of her ear, and flicked his tongue against the skin. As she groaned, using her hand to hold Virtanen's head in place, he had to stifle a yelp when her fingertips brushed his own lobe.

“Gods I hope you can feel this,” Macha moaned as he began to suck clumsily at the tip of the gracefully elongated auricle, “maybe you will see why I love it so much...”

After playing with her ears for several minutes, reveling in the newfound reassurance that his partner's needs were being satisfied, Virtanen separated himself from Macha. With some effort, he propped his back up against one of the crystalline trees, which was hard as steel but strangely warm to the touch.

“Don't give me that look,” he scolded. “There was an old book from Holy Terra that detailed positions, that is now taught by some conservative Scholas as “sanctioned” sex acts.”

“Gods,” Macha muttered. “No offense intended, but your race is full of imbeciles.”

Virtanen snickered. “To be sure,” he admitted, “but there WAS one position that should be more relaxing than most.”

That point seemed to convince her, and she crawled closer to the bruised and battered Inquisitor. “Just remember, I am not doing this because I am worried about you. You are no good to me if your hips break. That is all.” Virtanen merely raised an eyebrow, a gesture Macha resolutely ignored... though he was sure she blushed for a moment.

“Now,” he explained, gently guiding Macha's left leg over his torso by her ankle, “start like this.”

“But I can't see you,” she observed as she settled in on top of his stomach, allowing the insides of her marble-smooth thighs to settle against the outsides of his own.

Virtanen lifted his knees and grabbed hold of Macha's ankles, slowly adjusting her position until he could feel her breasts pressing against his legs. “There we go,” he announced, looking over the setup. “This should do nicely.”

“Take care. This may be more intense than you believe,” Macha warned from over her shoulder.

Then, she carefully guided him into her folds with her hand, and felt something incredible. Macha could feel his warmth spreading her inside, but at the same time there was a foreign pressure that she was not truly prepared for. It was a sense of intense tightness, as if some pulsing, warm, living thing was squeezing her clitoris: but even as she felt herself moan and grind against Virtanen's waist, she looked down between his legs and saw nothing that would provoke such a feeling.

And then it hit her.

“I can feel your penis.”

Virtanen sighed and placed his hand on Macha's hip, briefly admiring the stark contrast between her smooth, pale skin and the waterfall of sweaty red hair that ran down her back. “You know, simply stating the obvious isn't as sexy as you seem to think it is.”

“No, you... DIMWIT,” she scowled as she slammed down on his shaft especially hard: a gesture of frustration which produced a whimper from Virtanen and a small yelp from the Farseer. “I mean that I can feel the physical sensations from YOUR penis, as if I had one.”

For a moment the only sounds were of the breeze flowing between the crystalline trees. “That must be awkward,” Virtanen concluded.

“Awkward, but good,” she admitted as she ground against him once more, reveling in the sensations of both her own sex and the phantom member. “It also reminds me why our race accidentally created a Chaos god through debauchery alone.”

“Yeah,” Virtanen replied while his fingers came to rest briefly on Macha's taut ass before gently running the length between her glutes. He grinned a little as she gasped, tightening every muscle in her body and clamping down on his dick before relaxing again. “I think I can see that.”

The quality of the conversation took a marked downturn, however, as Virtanen came closer to his limit. He held back as long as he could, knowing full well that Macha could not release herself the same way he could. Her hands gripped his ankles, and she begged him to climax: to end the rapidly mounting ecstasy before it drove her insane. And still he held the line, subtly changing angles and slowing the pace to keep himself from losing control while Macha's body and mind were pushed to greater and greater heights of lewdness.

<GODS, EITHER LET ME CUM OR LET ME DIE!> she screamed, desperation apparent in her voice. And yet strangely, all that escaped her lips were wordless cries and tortuous moans as her body drove relentlessly onward. Then, after what seemed to her to be an eternity, she felt Virtanen pass his limit as he erupted deep inside her. Her movements became erratic as neurons fired randomly, and he continued to thrust into her with each of his own spasms.

Macha felt so full of the warm wetness she had come to associate with satisfaction like this, but even before she started to come back down from the peak of her own pleasure she was pushing Virtanen to continue.

Turning around, she looked the Inquisitor straight in the eyes. <One more time,> she explained wordlessly. <One more time and we will truly be as one. And then, you will see my reason for putting us both at risk.> In return an unfocused series of images flooded her mind: a small mammal on a leash with grass, several men in uniforms carrying weapons which appeared to be finely-crafted stubguns, the inside of a laboratory of some kind, a row of graves, all marked with the same set of numbers but different names... and several images of herself. One of her smiling, one of her pouting, probably after Virtanen finally decided to take away the amasec he'd left in the room he once kept her in, and one of her with unmistakeable black eyes and filthy purple hair. His past, his memories of her... his fears for the future.

<Worry not,> she reassured him through the connection they now shared, <what we are doing is insufficient to cause either of our souls harm. It takes worse than this to doom an eldar's soul, or else a daemonette has to be directly involved.> A pastry festooned with candles, a family sitting down for a meal, flowers in a darkened field lit by a single pale moon, the impression of a smile and a nod.

<Good. Now this is a position from an ancient eldar book I have always wanted to try.> Macha pushed down on Virtanen's knees, until they were flat against the grass below them. Then, she tucked her own knees into his chest, and without lifting up off his throbbing manhood, she rotated in place.

The results were immediate. On the first rotation she felt his member slide about inside her, squishing slightly as his gene-seed leaked out. She felt a twinge of discomfort through the link, making her non-existant penis hurt a bit, but the slight curve to the physical piece of Virtanen inside her meant that as it was inverted, the tip pressed into the walls of Macha's cunt in a smooth arc. The brief pain was overtaken as a rush of pleasure from the sensitive tip of the Inquisitor's member echoed between the couple. With a coy grin, she rotated again to face away from him, quicker this time.

The movements of her legs meant that her asscheeks massaged his thighs and stomach as she spun, and that the muscles around his cock clenched down on it and released in a mesmerizing rhythm. The waves of momentary strain followed immediately by pleasure were synchronized with her rotations, which picked up speed on each pass. For her it was a strange sensation of the cyclical juxtaposed with the constant: the strange, yet powerful pleasure of having his tool grinding out a perfect circle inside her as well as the results of her own gyrations on his senses. She could feel her hair flowing on the wind as her pace continued to increase, practically spinning like a top in a dizzying and sensuous display of inhuman grace and coordination. She drove her lithe form hard, never slowing even as her heart raced and her lungs ached from the orgasmic moans that slipped between her lips. She could tell he wanted her with all his being, she could feel his admiration, his adoration, his barely contained lust, the satisfaction they both felt as he watched her lost in the moment, the devotion to each other's happiness...

And then, in a moment of the greatest, most sublime sensation either had felt, it all came to a screeching halt.

It was a jarring experience, being able to see in all directions at once. It was even more jarring to see two bodies, each from the others perspective. How long they had been there was difficult to say... or perhaps it was even irrelevant. One was clearly female, with long, slender ears, red hair, and unusual slashes of color across her cheeks: an eldar, from whom tangible waves of ecstasy flowed as she gasped for air. Despite the intensity of the physical sensations, the feeling of her mind was one of serenity and utmost calm. Her alabaster skin was flushed and damp as she bathed quietly in the afterglow. The second was male, muscular and dark of hair and eye, connected to the first both physically and mentally, sharing in her sensations and sharing his own in turn. There was a passion between the two, enough that in this time and place it was tangible, and the feeling that resulted of the two loves building off each other through the psychic link was almost indescribable...

Euphoria. That was the word for the feeling. Complete, absolute bliss in which any semblance of independent thought or action became impossible. Time itself seemed to no longer pass in this stillness. There was no anticipation, no desire, no fear or angst. Even the two bodies themselves seemed distant and false, something that carried no meaning that could be done without. And yet, there was also a profound emptiness.

<This is what we were seeking. Is it? It's an interesting sensation, but there's also this feeling of emptiness, isn't there? Yes, so there is. I'm not even entirely sure which one I was. I am sure you can figure it out. And if not, the others will no doubt be glad to help.>

“If for no other reason than to get rid of us.”

“That'll work for me, Macha.”

“You used my name,” Macha purred softly as she lay against Virtanen's side, fingertips entwined with his against his chest.

“Yeah,” he replied, his free arm encircling her waist. “I guess that means we're back to normal?”

The eldar tucked her head against her partner's shoulder and closed her eyes to rest for a moment. “Not quite,” she admitted. “Our souls literally became one for a brief moment at the climax. We left something of ourselves behind, each with the other. You were directionless before, unguarded and defenseless: lost in a galaxy you knew little about. And now you have inherited a sizable fraction of my understanding of the Warp. Next time you dream you will find yourself safely with me, not exposed to the Runious Powers, hidden only by fortune. As time passes, your abilities will likely expand somewhat as well.”

“So you already knew about me.” The Farseer nodded curtly.

“Of course, imbecile. From the beginning.”

“And what did I leave with you?”

Macha smiled. “A feeling of unmatched tranquility, along with a very human sense of... immediacy. Being so long lived, the latter is something my people normally lack. Also, I saw a few of your memories, one of which seemed significant. Though,” she added, looking at the exhausted Inquisitor, "that can certainly wait."

“One more thing,” Virtanen insisted, staring down at Macha uncomfortably. “We just did all that in front of an audience, didn't we? I mean, I felt... others.”

“Yes. The souls of all the dead Farseers of Ulthwé reside in this grove... possibly that of my own mother as well.”

“WHICH IS WHY I'M GONNA KILL YOU!” a third voice screamed. “Seriously, the FIRST THING I can see after the surgery is YOU, HUMPING A MON'KEIGH! AND HERE OF ALL PLACES!”

The couple looked to one side, and Macha cringed as she saw LIIVI and Petrichenko running towards them, following in the wake of a beautiful raven-haired eldar. She had a distinctive scar across her eyes, and her features were a mask of pure rage.

ELSEWHERE...

“Shit, I lost AGAIN. I give up. Those two aren't worth the effort.”

“Methinks the girlyman doth protest too much. I know you're still stealing from me under the table, you two-faced freak.”

“... that's not ALL I'm doing under the table, kiddo.”

“Just remember what I told you about the idea of “good touch/bad touch”, sicko.”

“HE MAKES ME ANGRY!”

“Calm the fuck down, Khorne. It's just a game. Plus... you know. Everything makes you angry.”

“MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS FATASS!”

“WHOA THERE. Gentlemen, and other things, I think it's my game now.”

“Fine. Call it, ape.”

“Five cards, Ace high, tens or better to open - but only if your physical manifestation has one testicle.”

“Kid, that's retarded, you can't have that as an opener.”

“It's well within the rules, Slaanesh. You have had sufficient time to memorize them and plan accordingly.”

Virtanen basked in the sunlit garden, a book in one hand and a small glass of amasec and lemonade in the other. Next to him, Macha had abandoned any semblance of productivity in favor of merely taking in the warmth of the sun and the beautiful smells of the flowers and pines, having elected to fold her deckchair out flat so she could lay on her belly.

“This is so nice. You were right, cuddling does make these dreams so much more relaxing,” she sighed, stretching a little before rolling over on her side to face him.

“I've been tellin' ya.”

“And to think I resisted the idea. All that time we could have been doing this.”

“Well,” Virtanen offered as he dropped the back of his own chair and lay flat as well, beckoning the eldar to snuggle in closer, “let's not dwell on it too much.”

They lay that way together for some time, mimicking the positions of their physical bodies and reveling in the very real comfort it brought them as their skin pressed close and their legs entwined. Virtanen stifled a snort of laughter.

“To think, somewhere just outside your mental defenses the Ruinous Powers and the Emperor are probably duking it out over every minor detail in the galaxy,” he mused. “By the way, that little kid...”

Virtanen was skeptical. “You say you molested the supposed child-Emperor reborn? If you were a human I'd be obligated to shoot you. Killing the old one and molesting the new one... you're a double-heretic, that's what you are.”

Macha laughed, a sound that the Inquisitor was growing more accustomed to. “I suppose,” she agreed. “Right now, though? In this moment, I find it hard to care too much about the past.” She snuggled her cheek deeper into Virtanen's shoulder, twitching slightly as his hand brushed against her ear and settled on the side of her head.

“Surprisingly, things seem to have turned out well.” Just as they were about to share a kiss, a familiar voice crackled loudly, seemingly from everywhere at once.

“You have a message, Inquisitor,” Petrichenko announced. “So quit spooning and get up here to the bridge... sir.”

“By Khaine, I swear the next person who interrupts us gets their brain fried.”

The pair snapped awake and untangled, Virtanen giving Macha a brief kiss in the dimmed light. “I should take this,” he sighed. “I'll be back as soon as I can.” Macha nodded silently as he threw on his cloak.

The bridge was darkened, only illuminated by the stars themselves when the Inquisitor arrived. The only person there was the Lieutenant, tail twitching in agitation, who quickly pressed a button. A small hologram flickered into view, a diminutive copy of Inquisitor Cheng.

“So, I see you have procured an eldar ship, Virtanen. Will the Naval crew you requested be sufficient?” The man gave a smile sleazy enough that Virtanen shuddered.

“Yes, it's a small cruiser. It should do just fine. I've returned the ones who didn't pass my vetting.”

“You don't trust me, do you Leon?”

“You know me all too well.”

“Fair point,” Cheng muttered. “And the Farseer has joined you as well?”

“Indeed,” he replied, fishing through his pockets.

“And does she trust you?”

“... implicitly.” Virtanen retrieved a lho from one coat pocket and lit it, the cherry-end of the stick throwing a soft red glow over his face.

Cheng nodded. “This will prove to be a true information coup. Well done, Virtanen. Well done indeed. And what of the mission the xenos are supposedly sending you on?”

Virtanen took a long drag at his lho. “The Halo Stars. Farseer Macha claims she had a vision.”

Cheng let loose a sputtering laugh: to send a ship to the Halo Stars on a mission was crazy even for the eldar, who seemed to specialize in taking actions to wipe themselves out before any other threat could. “You know, Cheng,” Virtanen continued, “we are of equal rank, yes?”

The other Inquisitor's laughter came to an abrupt halt. “Yes, I arranged that. I even kept your identity secret.”

“And as such, it falls to me to pursue what I believe to be in the best interest of Humanity, correct? Is that not my mission?”

“I don't approve of the way you do things, Inquisitor Cheng,” Virtanen drawled as he ashed his lho, and a hand appeared on the holographic Inquisitor's shoulder. “I have enough dirt on you to try you, convict you, and execute you three times over... you couldn't have thought Benson actually got mauled by a grox?”

“... you fucker. I thought we had a deal!? You help me get my prize, and I set you up with a cushy job and a ship! I allow you to live and to serve, despite what you are! YOU WERE AS GOOD AS DEAD WHN I FOUND YOU! YOU OWE ME, VIRTANEN!”

Virtanen laughed, a harsh sound that disturbed the silent darkness of the bridge. “I'll tell you a little secret, Cheng. The reason I serve your Imperium, being who and what I am, is to rid it of the maggots like you who infest its corpse. One may earn a dog's loyalty with food, or buy a man with offers of power or money, but to tame the ghosts of the Past...” he hissed, “that NONE may do.”

Virtanen leaned forward to ensure the last thing Cheng would ever see was his shit-eating grin. The man's eyes went wide in shock, knowing full well what was about to befall him. “... the only easy day was yesterday,” Virtanen muttered half to himself. “Goodbye, Inquisitor.” There was a shot, and virtual viscera exploded past Virtanen's head as millions of miles away Cheng's skull was torn asunder by a single bolt. Then the feed cut, leaving the dying lho and the starlight as the only things visible on the bridge.

For a minute or two there was nothing but silence as Virtanen enjoyed the last of his lho in the twilight. “What are you going to do now, sir?” Petrichenko finally asked, apparently unfazed by the grisly execution of her former boss.

Virtanen rose, flicking the butt halfway across the darkened bridge and striding towards the exit. “I'm going back to bed,” he yawned, stepping on the lho to extinguish it. “You should do the same. I looked at the charts: it's a long way to get to the Halo Zone, and the next shift is up in ten minutes anyway.”

As he left, he turned back to face her. “There was a saying on Earth, once: run silent, run deep. There are likely things out there that have never seen a human, and I want to keep it that way.” Petrichenko merely nodded.

“That old suit of armor you requested Cheng send you is in what we've decided to call “cargo bay one”. I've got it locked down,” she called after him. “We can fit it to you tomorrow morning.” The Inquisitor waved one arm dismissively before disappearing back into his quarters.

“What was that about?” Macha asked blearily as Virtanen slid into bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Loose ends. Nothing important,” he reassured her with a kiss to the nape of her neck. “What's out there, anyway? In this Halo Zone?”

Macha was silent for a moment. “Our Fate, little ancient. Yours and mine, and perhaps that of both our races.”

Virtanen smiled as he closed his eyes. “Keep your secrets, then. We'll face them as one when the time comes, anyway."

“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Macha asked, eyes darting about the room. The entire space before her was filled with sights, sounds, and even smells that assaulted the eldar's senses. Dancers in the middle of the club's bottom floor moved with reckless abandon as synth-music pumped from giant speakers in the corners and the mood lights shifted between greens, violets, and oranges. From here she could even smell the intoxication and sweat thanks to her sensitive nose. She could only wonder what Petrichenko was feeling as she clung close between herself and the Inquisitor, clearly looking overwhelmed. Virtanen seemed to notice as well, since after requesting two bottles of amasec off the top shelf he sought out a quiet, shady booth on the second floor away from the crowd and the soundcast system.

The Inquisitor hardly looked the part, having had his hair cut short and now wearing a dark grey jacket over a casual button-down shirt, above dark denim and black boots. The odd mix of a stern-looking man with such a casual appearance may itself have set him apart as unusual, even if his companions didn't. Petrichenko had gone in for a “grunge” look, favoring a pair of fashion-statement “fatigues” bloused over her uniform boots with a sleeveless hoodie: the former concealed her tail, and the latter had little fabric cat-ears on the top into which her real ears had been hidden. Macha, on the other hand, went for something different: a businesswoman's skirt suit in bone-white, with a black shirt and an emerald-green tie. Her red hair was back in a ponytail, making no effort to hide her ears: which attracted a few stares, but far fewer than it would in firmly-controlled Imperial space.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Virtanen replied as to his left Macha modestly crossed her legs under the table. “We've been running hard for three weeks getting ready to enter the Halo Zone. We could all do with a break – even Inquisitors are human, you know.”

“So, how DID you end up with Cheng anyway, Inquisitor?” Petrichenko asked from his right, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the bass.

“Leon,” he scolded in return, sipping at his amasec. “We're off the clock here, Lydia.” Macha could swear that she saw the felinid blush under her hood.

“If you insist, Leon.”

Macha turned to give Virtanen a look of suspicion. “How DID you become an Inquisitor, though?”

There was a brief pause where all anyone at the table did was sip at their drinks. “It was a toaster, okay?” Virtanen finally admitted. “I was fixing a toaster.”

Macha took a sip of booze down the wrong pipe and came up sputtering, while Petrichenko tried desperately to stifle a laugh with her wrist. “A TOASTER? Seriously?”

“I was being held at a PDF checkpoint, their toaster was busted, and they had a dumbass techpriest chanting and praying to try and fix it,” he explained. “It was based on an old design, so I fixed it when I thought he wasn't looking.”

Macha shook her head as Petrichenko gave up trying to hold back her laughter. “I assume the techpriest was displeased?” Macha pressed.

“You have no idea,” Virtanen replied after a long draw at his drink. “He started screaming something about Hereteks, the PDF came in shouting at each other and waving stubguns around... it was a mess. Eventually that's when Cheng was called in.” He then set about refilling his companions' glasses with the sweet, plum-scented amber spirits as Macha turned to the Lieutenant.

The eldar eyed the outfit Petrichenko had chosen. “Where did you acquire such... interesting fashion sense?” she asked.

“It's ancient,” she replied, taking a gulp of alcohol. “Humans used to wear clothes like this back in the Age of Terra... of so I've been told,” she added, glancing at Virtanen. “And we still do, some places.”

Macha nodded, setting down an empty crystal glass and loosening her tie. “Strangely, it suits you. Very cute... kind of hot in here for Terran businesswear.”

“Yeah,” Virtanen added, rubbing Petrichenko's head under her hood, “you're pretty adorable to begin with, so the punk look adds a little... je ne sais quoi.” The felinid blushed furiously and tried to look busy, staring intently at a half full glass of amasec as if it were the most interesting sight in the galaxy.

“I... if you... I guess... yeah,” she mumbled, unzipping her hoodie a bit to cool herself off. The club had gotten quite warm, with all the dancing on the center floor and couples hidden in the shady booths. Macha's jacket was now hanging off her shoulders and the top few buttons of her shirt were undone... Lydia was tucked into his side, and he could feel a soft rumble as she purred in drunken satisfaction...

“God... the fuck is this?” Virtanen moaned as he stared at the ceiling. His head felt as if it was going to split open from the pressure and pain inside it, and he found that his recollection of the previous night was spotty. They had gone for drinks, he and Macha had gotten hammered, and Petrichenko had passed out. Then they called a cab... they had to carry the felinid aboard the ship... they undressed? Yes, he wasn't wearing shorts, and he was still kind of sweaty, so they probably had sex, though Macha was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

Hang on, did they drop off Petrichenko in her quarters first?

Then he remembered: his hands fumbling for her zippers, Macha pulling her boot off and knocking herself over. They'd given up on her socks after Macha's second mishap. But was she... as he looked down, slowly, hesitantly, he saw her. Panic filled his thoughts, and his eyes widened in disbelief and shock.

The petite felinid officer was glaring at him from somewhere around his navel, blushing furiously, her cerulean eyes just beginning to glisten with tears. He could feel her bare skin pressed against him, and her tail as it swished across his ankles.

“... jerk,” she pouted.

“I'm sorry?” he offered lamely, resting a hand on her head. “I don't even remember what happened, but I think I can guess.”

In response, the felinid's teeth clamped down on Virtanen's hand: just hard enough to hurt, but not enough to do any lasting harm. The Inquisitor grunted in surprise and quickly pulled his hand away.

“... okay, I suppose I probably earned that,” he admitted.

“Do you regret it?” Petrichenko growled.

“Do I what now?”

With an abrupt blur of motion the catwoman rolled to straddle Virtanen's waist and stare down at him, her ears pinned back in frustration. “You told me last night I was 'adorable', but do you regret it that much? Are you just going to apologize for getting me drunk and fucking me? Then run off and leave me wondering...”

“No,” he replied, “I didn't. Though I'd wondered how it was a felinid came to be an officer.”

“Yeah, it was his sponsorship,” the felinid confirmed. “But he only did it so he could have a “catgirl” aboard his ship to fuck. Luckily for me he got distracted before he ever ordered me to... you know. He WAS a little crazy even by Inquisition standards.” Then Petrichenko leaned forward gracefully to lay flat against Virtanen's chest. “Then he gave me to you - as a “gift”. Less as a helmsman, more in the sense of a fucktoy. Like property. You have no idea what it means to me that you treated me like a person... like an officer.”

Virtanen cautiously put his hand back against the top of Petrichenko's head, and finding no opposition this time he started to rub her behind her ears, eliciting a change in her breathing that made it sound like the faint purr he vaguely remembered hearing the night before. “I knew he was fucked up, but I never guessed it was like that... really, I'm sorry.”

Lifting her chin, the Inquisitor looked into Petrichenko's eyes. “You're a brilliant helmsman and pilot, a fine friend, and you really are adorable. I wouldn't use you like that.”

“So you have genuine feelings for me? Like I have for you?” she asked, pulling her face closer to his. Virtanen could feel her breath hot against his chest as she clung to him.

“... Macha was here last night too, so I guess I can admit it. Yes... yes I do, Lydia.”

Her lips were now hovering mere centimeters from his, and she regarded him with a sultry-looking smile. “Then prove it...” she whispered.

Just as their lips finally met, the door opened.

Macha stood backlit in the doorway, staring blankly at the spectacle. “Leon?” she asked quietly, startling both of them and causing the felinid to sit up, still straddling the Inquisitor between her thighs. “What are you doing?”

“I... well, I wanted Lydia to know that I actually care about her. You know, make last night seem more genuine and less rapey.” Meeting the eldar's glare, he quickly added “sorry I didn't ask you about it.”

Macha shook her head. “You did not sleep with her last night. We put her in our bed in her undergarments as a prank. Remember?” Looking up, Virtanen saw that Petrichenko had turned to look away from him, as if she couldn't bear to make eye contact.

“... how much of last night do you remember?” he asked quietly. The felinid remained silent.

“So how much was a lie? Was any of what you told me true?”

Petrichenko frowned, and her ears lay back against her head. Still, she refused to even look at the Inquisitor. “I don't remember last night, but I'd have known if we'd fucked. I was still very young when Cheng “recruited” me, and I haven't had much personal time, if you follow. The rest of my story was true. All of it... especially the part about wanting you to want me.”

“Why would you do this?” Macha growled. “You know what there is between us... and until now we trusted you. Why risk that?”

“Maybe I was jealous,” the Lieutenant offered. “Maybe I hate you for laying sole claim to the only man who ever cared for me? Who treated me like a person?” Petrichenko's voice started to rise, and her tail twitched madly as she rose from the bed to face her accuser. She seemed nearly oblivious to the fact that she was only wearing her socks, and that the eldar was head and shoulders taller than her.

“Did THAT ever occur to you, knife-eared bitch? Or do human emotions just not FUCKING COMPUTE? You asked me why? Because you're an IMPEDIMENT. You're standing between me and the man I love and who loves ME, so rather than compete directly I decided to work around you.”

“And you failed,” Macha whispered harshly, glaring down at her rival. “I assure you, I DO understand human emotion, but there is only ONE human whose feelings I consider. A hint? It is NOT. YOU.”

“Like it or not,” Virtanen interrupted, interposing himself between the two, “some things've been said that can't be taken back.”

“You cannot mean...”

“Yes, Macha. I've got a thing for Lydia, and I want her to be happy.” Macha stared down at the felinid behind Virtanen.

“So are you going to leave...”

“No, Lydia, I don't intend to leave Macha for you.” Petrichenko cocked her head in curiosity.

The Inquisitor sighed. “I propose a compromise. I've already committed myself... to BOTH of you. So either you learn to tolerate one another, and we all get along, or you don't.”

“And if we disagree?” Macha asked bluntly.

“I won't hurt one of you to spare the other. Follow me, Macha?”

“As far as I would like to,” she sighed.

“Look,” Virtanen snapped, before catching himself and taking a more conciliatory tone. “What it comes down to is how bad do you want it. Do you WANT to make it work or not?”

“I'll agree to it if the xeno... sorry, if MACHA will,” Petrichenko offered, stepping back a few paces. Her expression softened somewhat, and her ears were no longer angled back in any obvious hostility.

“Very well,” the Farseer concluded. In a blur, she sidestepped Virtanen and grabbed hold of Petrichenko's shoulders. With effortless grace and good aim, she lightly tossed the much smaller and lighter felinid onto the bed. With a small grunt of surprise, she landed on all fours in a surprisingly feline show of grace.

“Now finish what you started, little kitten. If I like what I see, I may even allow you to fill my needs as well.”

Now that Macha took a long look at her, even she had to admit that the Lieutenant had her own charming points. Her musculature was one among those: where the Farseer herself was lithe and graceful, the felinid was compact and powerfully built. Certainly not heavyset, by any stretch of the imagination, but she was clearly stronger than her frame would lead one to believe. She even had little cuts over her stomach, dividing the muscle into eight parts that practically ran right down to her little pink labia. Her biceps did not bulge, but showed clear evidence of a life spent in training. Her lightly tanned skin was even, with barely discernible shadows where her underthings usually covered her, and her brown hair and brilliant blue eyes were rather fetching as she frowned.

“I've... never done this,” she reminded them, snapping Macha out of her envious stare. The felinid's tail swished once in nervous anticipation. Her biceps and thighs danced beneath her skin as she turned to sit on the edge of the bed: Macha even caught a glimpse of the felinid's firm little ass, briefly remembering what it was like for Virtanen to do to her what he was about to do to Petrichenko. If she had felt that tight, Lydia must be at least as amazing...

“Do not worry,” Macha cooed, stepping closer to gently clasp Petrichenko's hands. “I will give you a fair chance... I can guide you through your first time.” She motioned quickly to Virtanen, who had been standing mesmerized across the room, his member having long since betrayed his thoughts.

“Lie down, Leon,” she ordered quietly. “Allow her to control the pace, as you so thoughtfully allowed me to.”

“Yes madame,” Virtanen replied with a hint of sarcasm, “of course, madame.” Despite having felt the need to remind Macha not to order him around, he didn't need to be told twice that Lydia would need a much gentler touch than he had been using with Macha of late.

Then, Macha turned her attention once more to the felinid, sliding the tips of her long fingers along the smaller woman's thighs. Gently, she urged Petrichenko's body into position, pressing lightly against the backs of her thighs and even eliciting a soft moan as she caressed the smooth, warm skin. “Here, little kitten,” she whispered, firmly but gently pushing up on the felinid's ass to lift her hips into position, trembling a little above Virtanen's waist. The tail quivered erratically, as if it knew what was coming.

“I... I'm ready,” the Lieutenant moaned as she felt alien hands tracing the lines of her abs.

“Slowly now,” Macha replied, as Virtanen's tool somehow seemed to grow even harder at the sight of her fingers gently spreading aside the folds of his felinid partner's labia. “Not all at once.” A small drop of her fluids landed on his own skin as Petrichenko's fingers slid about to find the base of his shaft, then stroked slowly towards the head, guiding him gingerly to meet her between Macha's outstretched fingers. His own hands helped to steady her, supporting a bit of her weight from beneath the toned flesh of her thighs.

As Lydia lowered her torso towards Virtanen, the tip of his member gradually spread her open. Tears collected once more in the corners of her eyes as she felt him hollowing her out inside, and her muscles resisted every inch as she forced herself down around it. She squealed in pain as her maidenhood tore.

As she settled down onto the base of Virtanen's cock, the felinid nodded once. “Yesss...”

“So what do you want him to do?” Macha whispered.

“I... I want him to...”

“Say it like you mean it: what do you want?”

“Please... please fuck me,” she gasped, even as she ground herself absent-mindedly against Virtanen's hips, causing him to twitch inside her. “I want to make sweet love with you, and have you fill me with your gene seed until we both pass out from the pleasure...”

As her voice rose Petrichenko continued to grind and thrust maddeningly, rapidly abandoning any sense of shame or self-restraint as Virtanen's hands came to rest on her ass, gently guiding her into deeper and deeper strokes as she continued to rant. “I want you so deep inside me I can taste you, I want your scent to overwhelm my nose, I want the sounds of your ecstasy to fill my ears. All I want is you, so please... fuck me...”

Macha sat back, clearly a bit stunned by what she had heard. She'd just been “playing the part” before, but that... dammit, that was kind of hot.

Without a word, the Inquisitor grabbed Lydia by her shoulders, dragged her down, and locked his lips against hers. She felt his tongue force its way into her mouth, and she savored the way they danced and slid around each other while Virtanen began to thrust up into her pussy from below. She felt as if her whole body was aflame, her head spun giddily as their kiss deepened, and she was only vaguely aware that by the bed Macha's hand had strayed down the front of her robes. But as Leon's hands found her tail, any semblance of awareness finally melted away.

Virtanen stroked Petrichenko's tail lovingly, each caress sending shivers up her spine and eliciting little moans that slipped from between their lips. Her body writhed and squirmed atop him, and with his other arm the Inquisitor pulled his partner firmly back toward him.

Macha had been around when other couples slept together before: in fact, it seemed ever time she had to stay with her sister for whatever reason she and LIIVI made it a point to fuck at least once. She'd heard them from downstairs, she'd heard them from down the hall, she'd walked in on them while they were on HER bed. But she'd never taken the time to stop and watch it happen before, like she could now. The way Lydia's powerful body strained against him, the way he held her close despite it, the lewd little noises she made as he pounded her, the wordless moaning as Virtanen played with her tail.

Her heart raced as she teased herself while watching the whole thing play out, until the felinid gripped tight to her Inquisitor and cried out briefly before biting into his shoulder to stifle herself. Virtanen grunted in pain before releasing... too soon, Macha thought. Shed' wanted it to go on just a bit longer...

“What... are you doing... kitten?” Macha panted as Petrichenko crawled towards her on all fours, deliberately swinging her hips a little more necessary so that her pert little asscheeks would work up and down as she approached. With each motion, a little of Virtanen's seed dribbled down her toned thighs towards the floor. There was something about this taut little kitten's body that thrilled Macha more than it should have...

“Don't be silly, Macha,” she purred in response. “We both know that Leon wasn't the only one you were watching just now...” With one hand the felinid slid Macha's emerald-green panties the rest of the way down her thighs, and began to kiss the insides of her knees with her tongue. Macha's hands pressed down against Petrichenko's head, but offered no real resistance.

“I didn't know you swung that way too, Macha,” Virtanen mused, rubbing the Lieutenant's backside as her tongue worked its way up the Farseer's thigh. “That's nice.”

“Not particularly,” Macha moaned as Petrichenko pushed onward slowly, but relentlessly. “Still... I cannot control what I find attractive, you know.” Soon afterward she let out a sighing gasp as the felinid's mouth finally found her already damp mound. Lips pressed against the Farseer's pink folds in a tender kiss, and Petrichenko's tongue flicked and teased up and down the length of her slit.

“Oh, Gods. Really?” she moaned, a trace of indignity still evident in her tone. “Virtanen, please tell me she is just really good, and that I have not become some kind of slut.”

Virtanen laughed softly. “Of course, it could be a little of both... kidding,” he added as Macha glared at him. Even blushing as hard as she was, she could still get the point across. Petrichenko's only response was to raise her hips, tail sweeping out of the way as she silently called for the Inquisitor's resumed attention. It was a request Virtanen was all too happy to fill.

“MMMPH!” the felinid exclaimed as Virtanen slid once more into her: this time, right in the middle of her firm little butt. As he pushed into her, he groaned in exertion and surprise at how tight a fit it was. She was almost so tight it hurt, especially as the sudden violation of her ass caused her entire body to tense, but somehow Virtanen managed to squeeze his whole length inside her. It wasn't until her smooth skin was pressed hard against his hips that Petrichenko seemed to relax beneath him.

Sliding back nearly to the tip, Virtanen was rewarded with a quiver of anticipation before he thrust back in up to his balls. The force pushed Petrichenko's face deeper into Macha's mound, and the eldar yelped as her labia were parted by the Lieutenant's tongue. She bit her lip, determined not to make such undignified sounds again, but nevertheless cried out a second time as Virtanen thrust home, rocking Petrichenko forward into Macha's lap yet again. And again.

“So, she did well?” Virtanen asked as Macha lay panting on the floor, skin still flushed and sweaty from the afterglow.

“Yes...” Macha moaned weakly. “She is... satisfactory.”

“Then I think you should return the favor...”

Looking to her side, Macha found Petrichenko now sitting mere inches away, her pussy still filled with Virtanen's gene-seed as she spread herself welcomingly: beckoning her silently to reverse their positions. With some effort she rose to her knees, and dipped low into the felinid's lap. Red hair fell all around her face and lay across Petrichenko's thighs, and she raised her hips slightly... knowing that Virtanen was watching her, hoping and praying desperately that he would ravish her with the same intensity he treated the Lieutenant to.

And as she ran her tongue around Petrichenko's cute little cunt, the taste of her two lovers' fluids mixing sweet and salty tones across her palate and the delicate mewling of an ecstatic felinid ringing in her ears, she felt a welcome and familiar pressure push into her belly.

A bright light. Cold metal. A thin paper robe that did nothing to ward off the chill.

“So, Colonel. This is it. Your last chance to back out.” The voice was familiar, but she had never heard it.

“You have me under the knife, Doc. Seems a little late for that sort of talk.”

“True enough. It's just... this is a big deal, you know. It's a big risk. Backing out now wouldn't make you a coward, it would just mean you have a preservation instinct. No shame in that.” There was sense in his words. But there was also uncertainty in his tone. Understandable: this was his first time at this as well.

“... do it.”

“Okay then. Nurse, put him under. Colonel, I want you to count back aloud, from ten.”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, five, five...”

Blackness, then dream. Unbidden. Unwanted. Countless points of light spring up across the galaxy, brighter than stars. Then a sea of flames. A tide of green. A Shadow from without. In the darkest, coldest corners of space, a running light flickers on the side of a hull, illuminating faded letters painted in white: UNCC 1034 BOT--Y B-Y. The sense of a joke that was funny at the time, and still was to the only man alive who still knew the reference.

She knew him. Still in his prime, yet ancient beyond even by her own people's standards.

Powerful new sensations, a moan of pleasure, a sense of smug satisfaction giving way to something... softer. Warmer. Two lights merged into one, growing ever brighter, filling her Sight, then burning out together.

Then she was awake. Confused, but no longer dreaming.

“You saw it, didn't you?” Virtanen asked softly. “We were in my dream that time. I used to dream about it often, before we met.”

Lydia was still asleep at his side, her face buried in his shoulder and her thighs squeezing him tight. As he began to scratch her behind one ear, she squirmed and nuzzled her face against him, and her breaths started to come in deep, satisfied purrs. Macha lay her own head on his other shoulder, and her hand upon his chest.

“Yes. I had seen it before... just never what happened there.”

“It's what we'll be off to find once the Navigator and her Sororitas bodyguards arrive?” the Inquisitor asked.

Macha closed her eyes. “Yes. We seek the place where it all began. In a sense, this will be a homecoming twenty thousand years in the making.”

“Leon is old, Lydia,” Macha explained as aggravation crept into her voice. “Older than me, even. He may not have truly 'lived' all of those years, but he feels their weight in other ways.”

“So there's something going on in his head?”

Macha nodded. “Correct. What happened recently that could have prompted such a response?”

The room was quiet for several long seconds as both women pondered the events of the previous week or so, trying to figure out what had changed. It must have been something new. Something different. Finally, as if each reached the same conclusion simultaneously, they turned to each other and spoke in near unison.

“The Sisters.”

It took only minutes for the duo to track down the Sisters of Battle who had boarded the Saratoga at her last port of call before entering the Halo zone. The way Virtanen had explained it was that it was an old name: that of a pivotal battle fought on Old Terra that had been used to christen several distinguished naval vessels in the past. He had also insisted that she be repainted, with a thick ring of black paint around the hull just aft of the first weapons emplacement and a thick black stripe down her starboard side. The dock crew had initially balked at the requirement, but the result was quite striking. It was along the midline of the ship, just aft of the black ring, that the navigator Virtanen had hired was quartered with her Sororitas escorts.

“Why have the two of you come here?” a tall, red-haired Sister in silver and white asked as Macha and Lydia approached, her tone almost accusatory. “Miss Arran is resting now. Do you have some business with her?”

“No, we do not,” Macha replied stiffly.

Lydia immediately stepped in with an attempt to sound somewhat more diplomatic. “We're worried about the Inquisitor, and I couldn't help but notice a correlation between your arrival and his mood. So I'd like to ask you some questions, Sister... Iona, wasn't it?”

“That's right,” the Sister replied, tension visibly dissipating as her posture relaxed somewhat. “I suppose my sister could put on some tea, and we'll answer what questions we can.”

“Riata.”

Sister Iona turned to face Macha, a faint look of surprise apparent in her face. “Yes... I wasn't aware you cared to know our names.”

“Of course,” Macha continued. “I used Inquisitor Virtanen's authorization to requisition files for both yourself and Sister Riata as soon as you came aboard. Fitness examinations, combat efficiency reports, psychological evaluations, family history, and educational records. I even ran a check on your civilian drivers' licenses and your credit histories.”

“So thorough. I'm not sure whether to be impressed or offended.” Iona waved Petrichenko and Macha into a spacious sitting room, part of a suite that had been originally designed for senior bridge officers. “Please sit.”

A moment later a slightly shorter red-haired Sororita, this one in a silky white robe, joined them from the kitchen. “So the Inquisitor's retinue has seen fit to grace us with their presence,” Sister Riata mused. There was no hint of sarcasm in her voice: instead, there was a tone of genuine interest.

“Since you came aboard, what have been your impressions of Leon?”

Riata gave a quizzical look at Macha's casual use of the Inquisitor's name, while her sister replied for the both of them. “Well, he seems a little brooding to me. Distant. He also seems to spend a lot of time ill as well. It clashes with our Order's dossier on him.”

“See, that's the point!” Lydia insisted, dropping any pretense of formality. “He can get a little quiet sometimes, but he's never like that all day or anything. Normally I'd have expected him to have charmed the pants off you two in under a week. Maybe literally.”

At this pronouncement Macha rolled her eyes, and Iona snorted. “Seriously?”

“Indeed,” Macha replied, raising one slender eyebrow at the Sisters. “If a farseer will gladly spread her legs for him, two witch hunters would be a non-issue.”

Sister Riata frowned. “Regale us with stories of your exploits later, xeno. If you have a point, get to it.”

“What did you say to him when you first met?”

“Nothing important,” Riata insisted. “It was Emperor's Day, and he seemed like he was in a bad mood already.”

“That's right, it was Emperor's Day,” Lydia added, suddenly remembering having missed Emperor's Day mass for the first time since she was a kitten due to her tight work schedule.

Iona finally stopped glaring at the eldar sitting across from her long enough to speak. “He asked us what we usually did on Emperor's Day, so we told him we did the same thing all citizens of the Imperium should do: pray, hold mass, and venerate the God-Emperor who founded our civilization.”

“He asked us about something called Christ's Mass, or something like that.” Riata visibly strained to recall the details of the conversation. “Asked us if it was 'still celebrated', whatever that means.”

Then, in a sudden gesture that surprised everyone in the room, Macha smacked her forehead. “Of course! I should have guessed it would be something like that. Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid!” As the others looked on in increasing interest, the farseer laid out her thoughts. “Virtanen is ancient, remember? Ancient Terra had many religions, before their early empire crumbled and the Emperor unified the planet in the aftermath. Each of those religions no doubt had their own unique figures, texts, and holy days. Do you follow?”

“I see,” Lydia answered, “so this Christ Mass must have been a holiday he would have celebrated tens of thousands of years ago, but which nobody remembers today... no wonder he's been upset. It reminds him of how much things must have changed, of all the things he's lost.”

“Leon's older than he looks,” Lydia clarified. “Probably predates the Dark Age and the fall of the Eldar.” Riata opened her mouth, likely to ask how that was possible, but decided to let the issue drop. The felinid probably didn't know the details, and the Sister figured she probably wouldn't understand them anyway.

“So, the way to cheer him up is to revive a millenia-dead pagan holiday from ancient Terra?” Iona asked. Lydia and Macha both nodded silently.

That evening, when the interior lighting on the Saratoga started to dim, a small knock came at the Inquisitor's door. Not a buzz at the door to the ready room, where he met with crew members when not on the bridge, but an actual knock at the door to the quarters he shared with Macha and Lydia. With some effort, Virtanen set aside the weathered and beaten book he had been reading on the bed and moved to answer, faded golden letters briefly flashing “THE F-LL”. To his apparent surprise, he found himself face to face with a white-robed Macha.

“Why'd you knock?” he asked, clearly puzzled. “You can just come in you know.”

Stepping out into his ready room, he was confronted by a symphony of white. The two Sisters he had brought aboard were wearing loose-fitting white robes that hung about their bodies, leaving very little to the imagination. Macha had brought out a longer, silkier robe that clung much tighter to her skin, and showed off her narrow waist. Lydia, however, wore a white zip-up hoodie and not much else, leaving her long legs entirely bare and her tail trailing from underneath.

“What's all this about then? Why are Riata and Iona here?” Virtanen wondered aloud. “... am I in trouble or something?”

“Merry Christmas,” Sister Iona offered, smiling.

Sister Riata pulled a bottle of out from behind her back, and pressed it into Leon's hands. “We thought you might like this, it's Iaxian brandy. Old, too... we were saving it for a special occasion.”

“I psychically attuned these small stones while you slept,” Macha explained as she handed the Inquisitor a polished wooden box. Inside were five smooth, round jade beads, each set to hang from a chain or mount to a stud. “They should allow you to speak to and hear whoever is wearing another stone in the set with no risk of being overheard.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Wait... you did what in my sleep, again?”

The Lieutenant stepped in before Macha could answer the question. “And I made you this.” With a flourish, the felinid produced a small knife from one pocket. “On my world we make things for the people we love, so I used the machining shops in engineering to make this from some of old wraithbone removed during our overhaul.”

Macha's eyes widened. “How did you manage that? Wait... nevermind. We can discuss it later.”

Virtanen, at a loss for words, set aside the box of stones and the amasec in order to retrieve the knife. He flipped it once into the air as Lydia smiled, admiring the way it arced and turned, perfectly balanced.

“It's nice. Clean, classic lines, just the right size.” The then turned to the others, and noted that they were all watching him with amusement and relief in equal measure. “Sorry,” he offered quietly.

“Sorry?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, I've been moping. 'Holiday gloom', they used to call it. Funny, I have no idea what month it is in the old Gregorian calendar. Could be April.”

“Feeling better, though?” Macha inquired.

“Definitely. Not what they usually meant by “white Christmas” either, but the clothes are a nice touch.”

Grinning, Leon used the blunt spine of his new knife to carefully open the bottle of brandy to his side. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Glasses were produced from behind the bar. It seemed mere minutes before the bottle of Iaxian brandy disappeared between five people, and things rapidly spiraled out of control from there. A second bottle was retrieved from behind the counter, and Virtanen slyly unzipped the front of Lydia's hoodie. He gently laid her down on the low table in the center of the room, and set a small glass between her thighs.

“Oh, so that's what we're doing!” she purred happily as he ran his tongue down the length of her body before snatching the booze glass between his teeth. Sister Iona's eyes went wide and her face blushed almost as red as her hair, and Riata hid her face from the spectacle.

“Lewd,” she muttered into her own robes before noticing the two little peaks that showed through the front.

Back at the table, Virtanen had just shared a sip of an agave liquor with Petrichenko via kiss, sloshing the amber fluid back and forth between them while the alcohol burned their lips. “Ugh, that's strong,” she complained, attempting briefly to sit back up.

“My turn next,” Macha insisted, forcing Lydia back down to the table. This time Virtanen did it right, placing a citrus wedge between the felinid's teeth, a shotglass between her legs, and a thin line of salt along her abs. After the Inquisitor explained the proper technique, gesturing first to the salt, then the shotglass, then finally the fruit wedge, carefully caressing Lydia's body at every step and making her squirm nervously, Macha leaned over.

Starting between Lydia's pert breasts, Macha began to trace the line of salt with her tounge, and the felinid shut her eyes as she savored the sensation. When she got to the smaller woman's navel, Macha tenderly kissed her, flicking her tongue playfully before she moved on. With a slight dip she retrieved the shot glass, and emptied it in a single go, raising her chin more than necessary and carefully seeking out every drop with the tip of her tongue. Finally satisfied, she dropped the glass into her waiting hand, placed her free hand on the side of Lydia's head, and bit into the lime. When she came away several seconds later, a trickle of juice rolled down each woman's cheek.

Iona was still speechless, and Riata had peeked through her fingers and was now muttering something in high Gothic. “Holy shit,” Leon muttered to himself.

“Are they always like this?” Iona finally sputtered.

“They weren't always, no,” Virtanen admitted as he watched Macha playfully bury her face in Lydia's bosom. “Fancy a guess at which way I prefer things?”

The Sister shook her head. “I should report this.”

“If you do, will you also mention how you're getting off on it?” the Inquisitor countered, to Iona's shock and embarrassment. “Christmas is supposed to be a time of joy. Take my advice and take the day off.”

Then, as if to drive home his point, a pair of white panties hit him in the side of the face.

Dutifully, Virtanen pulled his shirt off over his head and dropped his shorts to the deck, drawing the fascinated stares of the Sisters towards him. Then he lay on the table where Lydia had been moments before, and waited for the girls to set up. Lydia, now completely nude underneath her unzipped sweatshirt, grabbed a fresh glass, salt, and a lime wedge. Her tail now had a frizzled look to it rather than its usual fluffiness, and her smooth, toned stomach still peeked out from under her hoodie when she leaned over or moved suddenly enough.

As Lydia licked up the salt, he pulled her in closer by the waist, until she reached the shot glass... which she fumbled. The smooth glass slipped from between her teeth and spilled its contents all over Virtanen's shorts.

“Oops,” she muttered, tugging insistently at the waistband. “I can take care of that.” Macha merely plucked the citrus from his mouth and flicked it to one side, making no attempt to hide what was on her mind.

“In front of our guests?” he asked. “Really?”

“They seem interested rather than concerned,” Macha observed. “So why not give them a show?”

“This... is this even heresy?” Riata asked quietly as she watched the red-haired farseer work her own panties down her legs, finally stepping out of them and tossing them to one side.

Her sister shrugged noncommittally. “Not sure,” she admitted. “One's a xeno, one's an abhuman, and one apparently predates the Imperium. Let's just... see where this goes. For now.”

With a mischievous look in her eyes, Lydia slung one leg over Leon's body, kneeling over him on the table. Macha lifted her dress and tied it off at her hip, baring her lower half entirely before straddling the Inquisitor around his shoulders. Both women slowly lowered their waists, settling themselves around Virtanen's throbbing member and over his mouth. Macha carefully pinned his arms beneath her ankles, smiling down at him as his tongue teased between her legs. Lydia held him around the waist and began grinding gently against him, her body swaying to its own drunken rhythm.

Sister Iona watched the display in a mixture of fascination and disgust. On the one hand she was almost certain that any other Inquisitor would execute all three of them on the spot for such a thing, and probably herself and her sister as well for being nearby when it happened. On the other, however, both women had begun to make lewd little noises as they savored the physical pleasure of the act. They sounded so genuine, so joyous, as if in that moment they hadn't a care in the world. The fervor with which they enjoyed the sacred human form was something she had never seen before.

The farseer's voice snapped Iona out of her reverie, calling the Inquisitor's name and invoking her alien gods. The mention of the word 'Isha' didn't stir as strong a reaction as she had expected: of course the xeno witch would pray to her people's own fertility goddess in the throes of passion. Iona herself reasoned that she wouldn't be praying to Gork or Mork if Leon's tongue was hollowing her out inside like that. And of course it wouldn't help if she had a felinid nibbling at her ears, as Lydia was now doing. Silently, the Sister wondered if an eldar's ears were as sensitive as the reports and rumors seemed to suggest...

“Iona!? What the hell are you doing!?”

The Sister blinked once, watching as her fingers continued to massage Macha's left ear. “I'm... not entirely sure,” she admitted. With her right hand, she began to stroke Lydia's feline ear as well, producing what sounded like a satisfied moan. “Being friendly, I guess.”

“I don't mind... you know...” Lydia managed, straining against her lover's waist as she spoke. “Nothing wrong... with that...” Her voice trailed off into a wordless moan of pleasure as one of her hands strayed towards the Sister's thigh.

At first Iona flinched at the unexpected touch, and Lydia's fingers paused. Then the Sister noticed that Macha had turned to look at her over her shoulder.

“My understanding is that Christmas should be enjoyed,” she said, her tone surprisingly even given the fact that Leon hadn't obviously stopped. “So go ahead. Relax. It will do you no harm.”

Smoothly, gracefully, the eldar turned around in place so that she was facing her felinid companion and re-pinned Leon's arms. With a smile, Lydia patted the Inquisitor's stomach between them. Although she could practically feel Riata's disbelief, Iona found herself sliding her panties off under her loose robes. She settled between Macha and Lydia, fidgeting a little with a nervous look on her face.

“... don't tell anyone what happened here,” she muttered.

Lydia smiled, sneaking her hand in under the edge of the Sister's silken robes.

“No problem,” she replied as she began to stroke tenderly.

“Of course, who would we talk to about it?” Macha inquired, fondling one of Iona's breasts as her other hand went down the opening of her robe, teasing her open for the felinid's fingertips.

Before the Sister could respond, she felt Lydia briefly press her lips against her own... once, twice, three times in rhythm as Virtanen pumped into her from beneath. Finally, Lydia placed her free hand on Iona's cheek and pressed or resolutely to deepen the kiss they shared. Macha, meanwhile, buried her face in the newcomer's neck.

“You know,” she moaned softly, tilting her head to whisper into Iona's ear, “I have some familiarity with the female form as well.”

“What do you mean?”

Macha reached one hand down to meet Lydia's. “Try this, kitten.”

She gently maneuvered the felinid's fingers, guiding them to a specific point deep within Iona's body. With some difficulty they found it together, and the effects were immediate. Iona gasped loudly as Lydia and Macha's fingertips slid across a particularly sensitive spot, before she managed to stifle herself. With some visible embarrassment, the Sister realized that Riata was now staring at her in fascination.

“I was with a Callidus Assassin a few times before,” Macha explained from Iona's shoulder. “I know what the human ladies like.”

Riata shook her head. “What is this... a Holy Assassin, cavorting with a xeno witch?”

Iona, however, was in heaven. The feeling of the Inquisitor bucking beneath her, Lydia's tongue invading her mouth and her hand caressing her cheek, and the sensation of Macha nibbling at her neck were driving her mad. Of course, the two women's fingers cooperating to tease and massage her between her legs was simply mind-numbing. Her lips, her clitoris, her deepest depths – nothing was too sacred or too hidden. No part of her body was left unexplored, no aspect of the sacred human form remained unviolated. Moans and lewd noises filled her ears, the sort of disgraceful sounds the Sister would have scorned anyone else for making... and yet she was vaguely aware that she was the one making them.

The Sister lost all sense of time and place as any restraint between the four of them melted away at last. Macha moaned loudly as Leon's tongue and lips danced inside her, and Lydia rose and fell as he pounded away at her in a thunderous barrage of thrusts. Between them Iona was beset on all sides by fingertips and mouths, her own skin having become a source of pleasure the likes of which she had never allowed herself to feel before. She could feel her heart racing, her body ached and trembled... until she finally could handle no more. She screamed in ecstasy as her orgasm ripped through her body, which shook and strained as the pleasure echoed within her for what felt like hours. There came a loud grunt from Virtanen, and a spreading warmth as Macha cried out to Isha again in a string of Eldar words, her brilliant red hair tousled as her back arched. Iona could feel the farseer's belly and modest bust pressed against her back even as Lydia clung to her in front, crying out as she herself reached climax.

At the end, as the four partygoers rolled one by one off of the low table and onto the couch, Sister Riata found herself speechless. A felinid was laying breathless, sprawled over the edge of the couch with Inquisitorial seed spilling from between her thighs. The Inquisitor himself leaned against the wall, sitting on the floor with his eyes shut, still fully exposed. Riata nervously averted her eyes, only to find her own sister cuddled together with a xeno witch, their red hair tangled together and their legs entwined, half-dressed in their silken white cloth.

Sister Riata stared for a few moments, her jaw moving slowly as if trying to speak.